It Must Be Very Difficult Being Mr. Hawthorne.

Mr. Hawthorne and I are into our fifth hour of driving when he turns to me and says, "You know, your mother can't be Mama Hawthorne. I'm Mr. Hawthorne, so Mama Hawthorne would be my mother. Au contraire, you silly, silly, little man. I had to explain to him that I am Rosie Hawthorne - the sun and center of my little solar system and everyone and everything else revolves around me. My children would be my Little Hawthornelets, little planets revolving around me, and I have a Mama Hawthorne, a Sister Hawthorne, a Brother Hawthorne, and a Niece Hawthorne, all my satellites, and Mr. Hawthorne is an ASteroid in my universe, just a blip on my cosmic radar. He gets it now. He understands his place in my world. What took him so long?