Name Check

"Rebecca. What's my name?"

My five year old sweetness and light looks at me, a bit distracted. I am talking to her while she is watching Pocahontas. "Rainbow Spot."

"Are you sure?" I pressed. I couldn't help it. I'm not fully mature. I still a little sensitive about my name. A name is POWER. So far, I am a laundry stain.

"Okay, okay," she says, and I brighten up a bit. "You can be…" she thinks. Her eyes spy my t-shirt. "Spongebob."

"Spongebob", I repeat.

"Or Squidward." This isn't getting better.

"Or you know, you can be a…a… superhero…"

"Yes?"

"Spiderman or you know, you can wear glasses, and be… uh, uh, " She frowns, concentrating. She's silent for awhile.

She shrugs, at a loss for a superhero with glasses, perhaps.

Her eyes wander away from me, back to the dancing maiden on the screen.

"I don't know, Mom. You're still Mom, aren't you?" She says off-handedly.

Yes. I'm Rainbow Spot. And I'm still Mom. Ah, to heck with it.