Mommy isn’t my name. Or is it?

“Mommy Toribio Gomes!” Claire said.
“Excuse me, what?” I answered.
“Mommy Toribio Gomes, I called and called, and you didn’t answer because of whatever you’re reading. So I did like you do. And. It. Worked.” she said triumphantly.
“What do I do?” I asked.
“You know, like when I don’t listen to you, and you call all my names.”
“Mommy isn’t my name.”
“Of course it is. Silly mommy.” she said as if explaining the most obvious of concepts and hugged me tight.
“Whatever you say baby.”