Only on Fridays

Only my family is allowed to use the short version of my first name, and only on Fridays. Here's why....

It was the first day of kindergarten for the oldest daughter in a family of four. Her father made arrangements to go in late to work that day, and the family made the short walk to school together.

The kindergarten classroom was the first door on the left at the little blue elementary school. Child-sized chairs surrounded round tables, and each place was set with the name of a student. The little girl and her family had just found her place to sit when the teacher bustled up.

“This must be Mandy,” said the kindergarten teacher.

The little girl looked up and announced in a firm voice “My name is Amanda.”

The teacher and her parents must have looked quite taken aback by her tone of voice, so the little girl modified this statement with “But you can call me Mandy on Fridays.”

It’s one of those stories that becomes a legend in a family, repeated at gatherings amid much laughter.

I don’t know what prompted me to insist on being called by my real name that day, perhaps it being the first day of school and feeling like a “big girl” had me forging my identity and independence.

There are still members of my extended family and old family friends who try to use “Mandy” but I correct them as politely as possible. Pretty much only my grandmother and her sister got a free pass, and now a few of my aunts.