It didn't hurt that I stood before the entire congregation and announced it as my given name during children's church one Sunday. I have not yet, almost 30 years later, lived that down. Moral: never hand a three year old a microphone.
At any rate, when I came of childbearing age, many years before I bore a child (aka puberty), I made a pact with myself to not ever give my kids nicknames. I was going to give them a name and use only that name for their whole entire life so that they never had to endure the torment that I felt I had endured. No chances of public humiliation there.
Of course, as I got older and realized how unreasonable it was to think that I could own so much as a sweater without giving it a nickname, I relented and promised myself I would only give them "good" nicknames. The kind that would never embarrass them. You know, things like "sunshine" or "sweetheart".
I actually held with that pretty well with D. When we found out I was pregnant with him, we called him "beegee" until we knew that he was a he and then we called him by his name or just "sweet baby D". After he was born, he acquired the names "love bug" and "lovie" because of his sweet temperament. As he got older he grew into "wild man" and eventually "bigs" and "biggie" when he became a big brother. K gave him his newest nickname "bruba", which stuck with all of us. All of which were tame and sweet. It matches his disposition in general. Ever the lover boy that one.
Then we had K. At first, he was simply "squeakers" because of the way he squeaked when he nursed or got excited or upset or... you get the idea. He was also "snuggle butt" which eventually became "snuggle pig" which digressed to just "pigs" as he has grown. There is even a "snuggle pig" song. As if snuggle pig wasn't bad enough, he has also acquired the name of "shorty short fatty cakes" ("fatty" for short) which is a tribute to his stature. Of course he is also ever my "hulk baby". Then there is "littles" and "monster". Any one of which you would think would hurt his little ego but it doesn't bother him and to be quite frank, they suit him. My crazy, off the wall kid gets the crazy nicknames.
Obviously things have gone swiftly down hill in the nickname department. Poor K is getting jipped just like I did. Maybe its a second child thing? Or maybe its because K and I share certain personality traits that make us susceptible to those kinds of injustice?