What's In A Name?!

There seems to be a bit of confusion as to Alexander's name.  Lately, we've been having the same serious conversation with this kid over and over again, and, without fail, it goes like this.

"What's your name?"
"Andy!"
"No, your name is Alex.  What's your name?"
"Andy!"
"No, that's not right.  What's your name, Alex?"
"ANDY!"
"NO!  Is your name Alex?"
"Yeah... Andy!"

Like most things, I'd probably just ignore this incorrectly answered question and move on to asking other, more pertinent ones ("Where is the remote control?"  "Why does your FACE smell like PEE?"  "Do you have any blurred vision after falling on your head for the eighth time this week?"  "Did your or did you not lick that ice cube and then put it BACK in my drink?").  But the thing is, Alex is starting two year old preschool in a week, and I fear that his struggles with identifying himself may lead to one of four scenarios:

1. The teacher never being quite clear on who he is.

2. My suffering of parental shame when every other kid in his class is capable of announcing their own name.

3. The director pulling me aside and asking me to carefully recount all of Alex's head injuries for the past week.

4. My payment somehow getting misapplied.

And so I must try my best to drill the name ALEX into little Alex's adorable blond head.  Perhaps a rhyme might do the trick:

A is for Alex, that's super duper YOU!
L is for Lies, like saying you're Andrew!
E is for Empathy, you think this is a game-
X is X-tra candy- if you can say your NAME!

ALEX!

And yet, I wonder how the mix-up occurred in the first place.  Why does Alex think his name is Andy?  I can't quite shake the feeling that Alex believes that Andy is the name of the species to which he belongs.  Surely, Alex might be thinking, every little boy with stinky feet and a penchant for accepting bribes in exchange for barely decent behavior must be an Andy Sapien (which sounds a million times better than what I typed originally, ie., Homo Andy).  Alex doesn't think Andy is a name.  He thinks it's a being.  A creature.  A way of life.  And so, Alex is an Andy, naturally.

Or, Alex is hilariously and intelligently challenging how we perceive and react to the world and our roles within it.  Perhaps he has the soul of a modern day Shakespeare, doth protesting.  "What's in a name?  That which we call a rose / By any other name would smell as... Andy."

Of course, "Andy" is the word that Alex happens to say the most.  This is because he is a thoughtful, loving younger sibling.  If I offer Alex anything, he immediately asks for another one for Andy.  If Andy walks out of the room, Alex calls after him, begging to join.  If Alex wakes up and doesn't initially see his big brother, he inquires for him.  If Alex stumbles across an object that belongs to Andy (such as Little Teddy or Daddy's wallet), he identifies Andy as the owner and quickly moves to give him the item in question.  All day long, it's Andy, Andy, Andy.  It is true that Andy is always on the top of Alex's mind.  It's likely true that Alex wants to be Andy.  So when we ask the question, "What is your name?",  maybe it does make a bit of sense that the first name that comes to mind is-

Andy.

I could psychoanalyze Alex and his Andy-fixation all day.  But the fact remains that we have one week to preschool, and I may likely be resorting to Plan B- having Alex wear a T-shirt onto which I adorn the following phrase in Sharpie.

Hello!  My name is ALEX, and tell your billing department that ALEX'S account is current and up to date!

Now, seriously, Alex.  Did you or did you not lick the ice cube in my drink?