For some reason that even he doesn't remember, Jason calls me "P". I think the last time Jason actually called me "Kelly" was maybe our second or third week of dating. "Kellito" was popular for awhile, but now it's "P", which morphs into "Peasworth" at times.
Nicknames are big in his family. His brother Taylor was "Taylora" then "Lora" then "Lora Bora" and now just "Lobo" or, as Jason likes to call him, "Lobo Grande". Our cat Tiny has about 75 different nicknames, bestowed by both Jason and his brother Brandon. Tinykins, Tiny Whiny, Chutsworth, Pooper, Pooper Charlie, Agent Bauer (following a viewing of a particular episode of "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia"). Brandon even taught his 3-year old daughter to call the cat "Pooper Charlie", which I'm pretty sure is what she thinks the cat's actual name is.
(Story: when they visited us last July, we went to a local park to watch the sun set. As we were leaving, I said, "OK, Anya, time to go home." She exclaimed, "Yeah, have to go home and see Pooper Charlie!")
Anyway, ever since my diagnosis on Friday, Jason has taken to calling me "Shingley P", which makes me feel beautiful and like a delicate flower, as you can imagine. Thanks so much, Jason.