Generation with no boundaries: I don't like it when you call yourselves 'mom and dad'

While growing up, there were some lines that, as kids, we were not allowed to cross. If a child dared to put even a fraction of their pinky beyond that "demilitarised zone" that separated adults from kids, the offender would pay with hell for their misdemeanour.

But this generation has blurred these lines. They will tell their parents some things which were previously deemed as blasphemous, and shoot questions that would have made my mama to spit deep Dholuo proverbs.

What's in a nickname?

My wife and I like calling each other, respectively, mom and dad. Our daughter has been keenly observing this situation, and recently she made us know that she does not like our choice of monikers.

Yeah, we also call each other babe and sweat heart, and a whole lot of other mushy handles. But the mom and dad "name-calling" had made Pudd'ng to think that we are being fuddy-duddies, and that is why she gave us a piece of her mind ...

"I don't like it when you call yourselves 'mom and dad'."

"What do you want us to call each other?" Tenderoni asked.

"You should look for other names."

Tenderoni and I later thought about it, and realised how things would have been different had we given our old folks the same advice.

Dad simply called mama, 'Meru' or 'Mamau'. In Dholuo, that simply means, 'your mother'. And mama reciprocated with, 'Babau' or 'Woru' which in Dholuo means, 'your father'. Other times, it would be father or mother of so-and-so.

We however get it. Pudd'ng is coming from a good place. She is not being disrespectful.

Growing up question

There are questions that Pudd'ng asks that would have made my father to speed dial our old church's prayer warriors to exorcise my big mouth.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" my daughter asked me during dinner.

That question caught me by surprise. Well? I'm still surprised.

I imagined asking the same question to my old man. That would have been the end of my supper ... for about 40 nights.

Dad's daily itinerary

My old man came and went as he pleased. His kids never asked him where he was going, or where he was coming from.

I work from home, and baby girl knows that if she returns home from school and finds me wearing certain clothes, it means that I went out at some point.

Each time Pudd'ng sees me leaving the house, even if I am just stepping out for a breather, she must ask where I am going. I have realised that she does not mean to be all up in my business; she just cares.

Lovey-dovey greetings

When my wife arrives home in the evening after closing her business, she and Pudd'ng spend an inordinate amount of time exchanging pleasantries. Most times, after a quick hi and "How was business?" she goes on her way and I remain at my desk, chasing a deadline ... like it's a dragon.

Aha. These perfunctory greetings have not escaped the eagle-eyed Pudd'ng. A couple of days ago, she told us, in not-so-many words, to style up ...

"Mom? Why do you always greet daddy quickly, and then you rush to the kitchen?"

"Because ...," Tenderoni thought, before defending herself: "But dad also does the same thing."

That is when it occurred to me that this is what we actually do. Blame it on familiarity. So now, each evening, we do not just drop perfunctory hallos, but we really greet each other like long-lost lovers ... with lovey-dovey names for maximum effect.