Our Charlie, The Chooch, celebrated birthday number 3 this weekend.
Yes, The Chooch. Charlie got that nickname early on in his infancy because he was a BEEFY baby. The kind of kid with 3 wrist rolls, and leg rolls, and just well-fedness all over. My wife was proud of those wrinkles, she worked hard to get them on him.
At first he was Charlie Choo Choo, Choochie Choo, and then, due to his solid size, he just became The Chooch.
But a funny thing happened in the fall when my family became very public over an article I wrote about how my older son was my favorite of the two: people started calling me out over his nickname.
In Italian ciuccio means dummy, idiot, or moron. Chooch is an anglicized slang for ciuccio. Whoops.
We’re not Italian, so it doesn’t matter to us. We love the nickname, and it has stuck with him the entire way. He responds to it when called, and even our older son will refer to him as such. So Charlie is The Chooch.
My dad refers to Charlie as Charleau, he says it is a French twist on Charlie. I thought it was cute and have started mixing it in whenever I speak French to my boys. Then I discovered from my brother-in-law from France that Charleau is a french nickname for a fool. It’s derived from Charlie Chaplin and used to describe people being silly.
Ugh. Charlie just can’t win. Daddy doesn’t think he’s his favorite, Momma calls him a dummy, and Grandpapa calls him a fool.
Regardless, happy birthday to the boy who will always be our baby.