Before anyone calls the cops (or DHR for that matter), please read the rest of the story. When our daughter was about two years old, she had a really hard time verbalizing syllables. Her brother’s name, Jordan, was especially hard for her to pronounce. She ended up spontaneously calling him “Weedo.” We all ended up calling him that for nearly 15 years until he finally (exasperatedly) expressed his true feelings about his nickname. And they were not pleasant!
The term of endearment did, however, apply until high school. Since we typically made his lunch on school days, one morning I absentmindedly wrote “Weed” on his lunch bag. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care. When he went to lunch, his friends died laughing over the fact he was carrying his bag of “Weed.”
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