The other day I was having one of my regular play sessions with my daughter. During this session we were playing with some stacking stars when she started to get fussy. Noticing that we were approaching nap time I reach for her pacifier and said “Dustin has your pacifier.” Shocked at hearing me say my own name to our daughter, Diane turned to me with a puzzled look on her face. For me, it was simply a slip of the tongue, referring to myself by my name and not the tradition “Dad”. So this got the gears turning and I started thinking about names. In all reality, names our just labels we give things so we can easily organize people, places and things in our brains. But does it go deeper then that? So join me on a journey as I explore the the word Dad and labels in general as I ask the question: what’s in a name daddio?

I’ll start my naming journey with a brief origin of the word Dad. While there is much speculation on the internet revolving around the origin, it would appear there are 2 main theories on the subject. The first, hailing from the Welsh language, states that the word is an off shoot of Tata, which translates to “father” (source, source). This is a nice theory that traces a line down the evaluation of language but leaves lots of room for questions. The other popular idea is that Dad is actually a common phrase spoken by many babies. The idea is that “da da” is something that babies will figure out on their own (by randomly trying out different sounds together) and since it was close enough to Tata, people just accepted it as a substitute (source). Also another good theory which seems to have lots of scientific support but is too full of a few questionable holes.

“So what does that mean?” I ask myself. I’ve come to realize that it doesn’t really matter and the real answer is lost to time. What I do know is this:

When I was growing up, I referred to my father as Daddio, my older brother called him Dad while my younger sister simply called him father. We were always talking about the same person but we all had our own way of labeling him. The label that we gave him was simply a way of further defining our relationship to him, making it special and unique. In our own little ways, the name we gave my father was a sign of how we interacted. Daddio was the relaxed, cool type of friend. Dad is a simple classic, drawing images of Dick Van Dyke as the head of the house, making wise decisions and steering the family through rough times. While my sister used Father, a formal and respectful name to define a relationship full of love, protection and support. So how would my daughter define our relationship?

I guess I can only speculate as to what my daughter will end up calling me. Father, Dad, Papa, Daddio. All acceptable in my books as long as it’s not my name. But really, is being called Dustin by my daughter a bad thing? I can imagine that some fathers would prefer to be called by their name, or Sir, as it could be a major sign of respect. But maybe I’m drawing too much into this Dad name thing.

To simply rely on labels to define oneself is to severely limit you role in this world and I have a great example – my mother. When I first told her about our pregnancy, my mother instantly got hung up on the new label that would be applied to her, Grand Mother. While nothing is wrong with the title, for her it spelled certain doom. I would go as far as to say that she got so wrapped up in the name that she came up with some cleaver alternatives (that I refuse to use) in order to avoid the inevitable but she ultimately missed the joy of the situation all together. It took her some where around 6 months to warm up to the idea that adding a new member to the family was a good thing. That life would still continue and that she wouldn’t instantly start falling apart at the hips.

Reflecting upon the situation, I need to take a lesson from my mother on this one and not sweat the small stuff. Sure, I called myself Dustin to my daughter and I’m sure I’ll do it again in the future but I can’t let that trip me up. The end decision, what my label will be will be determined by one person and her opinion will mean the world to me. So if my daughter decides to call me Daddy, Daddio, Dad or go with the classic Father, I can hope that our relationship will be built on more then labels and words. That we can be together as father and daughter, or better yet, as just people who love each other.

So, what do your kids call you? Did I leave out a classic name from my random list of Dad alternatives? Please leave your thoughts in the comments below!

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