Tucker has always called his brother 'Tozzer.' In fact, as a family, we have nicknamed him Tozz. It works. And it can grow with him. I have pictured this very handsome red-headed boy of mine, fifteen years down the road, saying, "I'm Tyler. But lots of people call me Tozz."
But just this week, Tucker learned to say Tyler's name... correctly.
Well, almost correctly. Tah-wer. Which sounds exactly like Tower.
(Which led to some confusing conversations, as I couldn't figure out why he was so annoyed with a tower. Mad at the tower. The tower poked him in the eye. The tower won't share. Tower, tower, tower. He transitioned nearly overnight to this new degree of accuracy, so it took me a day or two to catch up.)
So, no more with Tozzer. I'm a little sorry to see that go. It was a very darling, brotherly nickname. Tucker can say it right if he wants. It was bound to happen. But for two years, he has called him Tozz.
I'm not giving that up very easily.