NEVER, in my wildest dreams, did I expect to become a woman whose world was littered with angels, sweeties and honey bunches.
I have tried to piece together the historical development of my condition.
Possibly, it all began when I started calling my husband 'honey'. Then, when my first baby girl arrived 'sweetie pie' entered my vocabulary, followed by two more daughters and the addition of 'angel' and 'darling heart'.
The situation is so severe now that anyone sharing air with me is likely to be addressed with my terms of endearment.
These sweet nothings just flow out of my mouth involuntarily as I innocently go about my everyday life.
If I do manage to use someone's correct and proper name, it is only by sheer force of concentration and the application of a strong will to suppress the pet names.
I can only hope that my behaviour does not hinder the development of the above-mentioned children who are, at this stage, apparently thriving in my care.
Worryingly, I can report that my three darling girls still call me 'mummy' even though they are well and truly old enough to call me 'mum'.
They say 'mummy' makes me sound younger - which you would find even more hilarious if you could see how ragged I look most of the time while sharing their company.
Daddy is still 'daddy' and it might be of particular concern that although we chose beautiful names for our daughters which would not be amiss in the Russian gymnastic team - Katianna, Yasinta and Tiani - on entering our home, Katey Matey, Muggins and Tiani Banani are heartily greeted instead.
Oh well, I can only assume we are not lone sufferers of this possible epidemic and that there are others travelling through life incessantly referring to those around them as 'poopsie bear' and 'princess'.
If you find yourself a fellow victim, I have only one thing to say to you: "Honey, I feel for you, but don't worry sweetheart, I really believe you are blowing this thing way out of proportion and everything is going to be okay."
Are you feeling any better now bub?