I get it—things are evolving. It’s a new world out there, and I’m doing my best to adapt. I recognize that with social media and texting, communication is becoming increasingly informal (#TotallyUnderstand). Etiquette is shifting, and our social norms are transforming into something… how should I put it? Less formal? Casual? Yes, that’s it—casual.
In general, I appreciate casualness in life:
- Casual Fridays? Love ’em.
- Casual jeans? Sign me up.
- Casual dining? Absolutely.
- Casual dating? Well, that was fun while it lasted.
There are definite perks to this relaxed approach. We can skip the small talk and get right to the point, which often means we can share our fries faster (with me, please). However, I still yearn for some good old-fashioned manners, especially when it comes to how kids interact with adults. One of my biggest pet peeves? Kids calling adults by their first names. This trend, while common in my area, still feels off to me—like wearing white after Labor Day or ordering a burger at a vegan café.
To make it even more amusing, my name is Emma. So every time a child says it, I can’t help but hear that song by The Ting Tings:
“They call me hell.
They call me Emma.
They call me her.
They call me Jane.
That’s not my name.
That’s not my name.”
Once that tune gets stuck in your head, your day is pretty much over.
I often question whether I’m alone in feeling this way. Many parents prefer being called by their first names, claiming that titles like “Mr.” or “Mrs.” make them feel old-fashioned—like something from a 1950s sitcom. Apparently, being addressed as “Emma” or “Greg” makes them feel youthful—similar to shopping at Forever 21 or sipping on a trendy cocktail.
I get that “Mr./Mrs.” can feel a bit antiquated, and I’m not rushing into a rocking chair just yet. This leaves me with a dilemma: What should my kids’ friends call me? Some people try to compromise by adding “Miss” or “Mr.” in front of their first names, but “Miss Emma” sounds too… I don’t know… like a character from a 1980s sorority movie?
In a quest to merge old-school manners with a modern flair, I considered adopting a rapper name for myself. Unfortunately, all the good ones are taken. Here are a few I considered, but none felt quite right:
- G-Em (too obvious)
- Heavy E (too literal)
- Icy-Heat (too grocery store vibe)
- 50 Sips (too, um, menopausal)
- Small Busted Rhyme (too disheartening)
- Ice Koffee (too suburban mom-esque)
Then I thought about changing my name to a symbol, like Prince did back in the ’90s. No one could call me anything, and that could be liberating! I just need to determine what that symbol would be—maybe a wine glass? A pair of reading glasses? A silhouette of Spanx?
The reality is, being on a first-name basis should be a privilege reserved for peers. There must be boundaries between children and adults because, let’s be honest, kids: I think you’re delightful, but we are not friends. Here’s why:
- We won’t be hanging out at a bar anytime soon.
- I’m not going to ask for your famous buffalo chicken dip recipe.
- We won’t be swapping stories about our spouses anytime soon.
- If we were friends, I’d have to get an Instagram account and learn how to use a selfie stick, and I’m not ready for that level of commitment.
To clarify, here’s a quick cheat sheet for when you should think twice before calling me by my first name:
- If you’ve had an accident in your pants in the last decade… big no.
- If you’re wearing anything from Justice… also no.
- If you play on a travel soccer team… hope you have a great season, but no.
- If Skittles are a food group for you… definitely no.
- If you can recite more than ten lines from a Minion movie… um, nope.
- If you still order off the kids’ menu… pick no.
- If your Disney ticket was half-off… it’s a magical no.
- If you’re wearing light-up sneakers… heck no.
- If you’re counting down the days until Santa arrives… ho ho no.
Thanks for understanding,
(The mom formerly known as Emma)
P.S. Please don’t take offense. I’m not even on a first-name basis with my gynecologist, and we’ve shared quite a bit of time together (and by “time,” I mean mildly embarrassing experiences).
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Summary
This lighthearted piece discusses the evolving norms of addressing adults, particularly the author’s discomfort with kids using first names instead of titles. It humorously examines the boundaries between kids and adults, ultimately advocating for a respectful distance in these interactions.
Keyphrase: kids addressing adults
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