Fleur doesn’t like my pet name for her: Baby. It earns an instant protest about not being a baby.
My mother claims to Fleur that I am her baby. Taking in this information became a game changer. Until recently, Fleur rejected even that.
She slowly but surely has come around to accepting that she is and will always be my baby.
My other argument is when she asks me to carry her, I remind her that babies get carried. So as long as she wants to me to carry her, I get to call her my baby.
Baby steps.
See also: Help is a four letter word
Polymath Parent 