My father’s name is Bill.
The Hobbit, I recall, was a very big book in our household. One of the many well-thumbed children’s books lying about.
My mother began to refer to my father as “Bilbo Baggins” on occasion. Sometimes she would shorten it to just plain “Bilbo.” (My mother, like Tolkein, has created her own language – or maybe I should call it a dialect.)
And somehow – through the morphing of time – “Bilbo Baggins” was shortened once again to: “Bo-Bags.”
Bo-Bags.
It makes no sense. Really.
She still calls him “Bo-Bags” if the whimsy hits her.
“Bo-Bags – want to take a walk on the beach?”
I think Tolkein would be pleased.
How would it go over if I were to call him Bilbo? Maybe I’ll try to slip it in somewhere, and see if anyone notices.
It would be even better if you tried to call him “Bo-Bags”.
That’s adorably charming, Sheila.
Dearest: she’s shortened it even more–now I am often called ‘Bags’–which I resent. lave, dad
Dad:
HAHAHA
Of course! I forgot how she finally just left off the “Bo” altogether.
She’s insane. I love her.