What are you calling me?

My girls have a favorite-beyond-compare bedtime game. They LOVE it when we play hide and go seek in the dark upstairs. Of course they are too afraid to actually hide by themselves or seek by themselves, so we must play in groups. Dad on one team, Mom on the other.

Somewhere along the way, however, this game became slightly insulting.

The youngest of my crew began for some reason referring to me as "Porky". You see, my job when we are the "seeking team" is to crawl down the dark hall on my hands and knees. I'm not sure when our game evolved into this, but nevertheless, this is how it's done. The girls walk along next to me, their hands on my shoulders or back, as we make our way throughout the darkened rooms.

It's a little nerve racking, not knowing when my kind of frightening husband will jump out at us.

And okay, okay, you should probably know this tiny detail as well: as "Porky", I am supposed to make snorting sounds the entire time, in part so I will not scare the children who are hiding and in part just because the kids think it's funny.

But I just have to wonder. Porky? Out of all the names in the universe, why that one? My 3-yr-old now regularly says, "Can we play Porky tonight?" She looks straight at me. It is really not a big deal, I suppose, to be known as Porky within the privacy of my own home.

I'm just waiting for the day we're in line at some fast food place and she turns to me and asks loudly, "Hey, Porky, what'cha gettin' to eat?"