My brother calls me “Snickle-fritz”

And teases me a lot.

Sis calls me “Miss America,”

But, of course, I’m not.

Daddy calls me “Punkin Pie.”

I think he’ll be home soon.

Mom says that I’m her “Precious Child.”

I turned 18 last June.

Those names are nice—but some are not.

Some make my life so hard,

Like when boys ride by me on bikes,

Yelling “Dummy” or “Retard.”

Besides bad names that hurt me, though,

Are kids who stop and stare.

Some grown-ups look the other way,

Pretending I’m not there.

There are some things I’m good at—

You might not think it’s true—

My dad says that I’m cheerful.

He calls me “Sunny Sue.”

And Mom says that I’m thrifty,

’Cause I save every penny,

So another name for me is

“Thrifty, Nifty Jenny.”

But there’s one name that’s special,

I learned at Primary.

The song says “I am a Child of God.”

I know that He loves me.

Photo by Steve Bunderson