Today, my older son Andrew celebrated an important adolescent rite of passage. He got braces. This means that he’ll be in much pain tonight…and that my boob lift fund is empty once again, sadly.
I know it’s essential for us moms to put ourselves first once in a while, but I couldn’t bear the thought of people noticing Andrew’s uncorrected overbite, while I proudly displayed a chest that could double as a chin rest or a mantel piece.
Back to the braces:
Once the brackets were in place, Dr. King came out to meet with me and go over brushing and flossing and all that crap. I was pretty impressed with the guy up until he called Andrew Dwight. Not once, but twice.
Dwight? I don’t recall that being short for Andrew. It’s not like one of those weird “Peggy is short for Margaret” sort of nicknames, is it? I mean Dwight’s not a bad name. It’s still better than being called Caitlyn Jenner.
As the doc reached out to shake my hand and said “Call us if you need anything, Dwight,” Andrew and I gave each other that puzzled “shouldn’t one of us correct him?” look.
But we didn’t. Would you have? Not correcting someone when they call you the wrong thing can alter the course of your life, if you’re a kid.
In college, I had not one, but THREE roommates who went by names that were thrust upon them by first grade teachers they were too shy to correct. And the fact that 65% of people think our last name “Weight” is really “Wright” isn’t a good thing.
If we let this go too long, Andrew Weight could become Dwight Wright. (Well, it does rhyme nicely.)
When we lived in Georgia, a mom I knew from Northwest Laurens Elementary School, greeted me every afternoon for two years with an enthusiastic “Hi, Emily!!!”
I meant to correct her, but kept putting it off, which made the prospect even more awkward. And, to be honest, I sort of liked being called Emily because it sounds better than Angela.
One night at a party, I was talking to my friend Luann, (which isn’t her real name but I’m changing it on purpose.) As the Northwest Laurens “wrong name mom” walked in the room, I commented…
“Oh look! There’s Laura. She’s such a sweetheart, but she thinks my name is Emily and I don’t know how to tell her it isn’t. She’s been calling me that for two years!”
Luann laughed and replied, “don’t feel bad. She’s called me Tina for four years now.”
I wonder if Laura calls her husband the wrong name also. Hopefully not during sex.
What about you? Do you correct people? Or just let them keep thinking your name is something different?
Or if you called someone by the wrong name, wouldn’t you want to be corrected? I think I would.