The Star has just learnt his own name, although it’s unfortunate he’s still having trouble with his ls.
He has also discovered that Mama and Papa have names which aren’t Mama or Papa. Likewise Babushka, Granny and Grandad.
You are hoping that this puts an end to the Star’s habit of occasionally lumping you and B into one indistinct parental unit, the Mamapapapapamama. It’s nice to feel special.
He now has a fascination with all things name. And you have entered a new phase of motherhood, that of answering the same question repeated over and over and over again.
If you are out, he wants to know the name of every dog or baby he comes across. He usually asks you. You fear to sink too far in his estimation, so mostly you make them up.
He also wants you to name all his toys. There are an awful lot of Kirill the Cars in your house. You enjoy a bit of alliteration in your life, although usually what springs to mind are some very old-fashioned, very English names. Daphne the Duck and Doris the Dolphin, Roger the Rattle, Edward the Elephant, Walter the Watering Can and so on. You suspect you are channelling the children’s books of your youth.
You feel he is slightly missing the point when he insists on your christening thoroughly inanimate objects such as the daffodil he pinched from the park and his new balloon though.
Although regarding the last, it seems he is moving on. For the Star was not, seemingly, impressed by Daffodil the Flower and Bob the Balloon. Instead he insisted on Thomas the Balloon and Bertie the Flower.
You predict a lot of Percys and Gordons in your future.