Slow Down That Train.

Tucker has a new word, and it's one of my favorites: Thanks.

But when he says it, it sounds like Synkes.

When I poured him a drink today, he said, "Synkes, Mommy."

When Tyler shared his bread with Tucker, he said, Synkes, brudder."

When I pushed the button to make the van's side door close automatically, he said, "Synkes, door."

I love it.

But I do not love this: "Synkes, Mom."

Wait just a minute there, mister. I am Mommy to you, for at least two more years. I do not prefer a nickname, but rather my God-given full name that I received when you were born: Mommy.

Yesterday, I kissed him on the cheek. I just couldn't help myself; he's lucky I didn't take a bite out of those edible cheeks.

You know what he said? "Hey. Don't kiss me, Mom."

Nope. I will. And you'll call me Mommy. And that's how it's going to work until further notice.