My middle name is Marie, and so is my sister's. You would think my mom or dad had some sort of family significance in using the same middle name for both of us, but apparently, they just happened to like it. I continued the tradition and used Marie for Addison's middle name as well.
When you're growing up, of course the only time you hear your middle name being used is when you're in trouble, doing something you shouldn't be doing. So naturally, what we heard was either "Stacy Marie!" Or "Stephanie Marie!" We have a funny story in our family dating back to when Stephanie was about four years old, and I was two. Stephanie caught my dad doing something she didn't think my mom would approve of (no one remembers what, exactly), and reacting as she had always seen mom do with us, she promptly yelled, "Daddy Marie!" Since then, giving everyone and everything the middle name Marie has become somewhat of an inside joke for our family. Insert this fabulous card my sister stumbled upon and sent me for my birthday one year:
Last weekend, Matt and Addy and I spent a large chunk of time doing yard work outside. Matt's task was to transport a dirt pile from our front yard to the perimeter of the house in the backyard. Each time he loaded up the wheelbarrow, Addy would follow him to the back yard to watch him dump it. On one occasion, she was busy catching frogs and missed the trip to the back. When she came looking for him and didn't see him, to my utter delight she called out for him, "Daddy? Daddy Marie? Where are you Daddy Marie?"
It gets even better. A few days later Addy sat down next to me on the couch and quickly expressed her concern over my need for a shower with, "Ewwww, you're STINKY MARIE! You need a shower!"
And so the cycle continues.