The schizophrenia of motherhood

Here's a word-for-word transcript of a recent conversation I had with Owain in our lower garden:

Me: Do you want some raspberries?
Owain: (running toward me with his mouth and hands open) No!
Me: Yes, I do, Mama.
Owain: Yes, I do, Mama!
(various enthusiastic eating noises ensue as he stuffs his mouth)
Owain: More raspberries, Mama!
Me: More raspberries please, Mama.
Owain: More raspberries please, Mama.
(more eating noises)
Me: Thank you, Mama.
Owain: Vencou, Mama.

It occurred to me that if someone was hearing only my voice, they would assume I was having a lovely conversation with either myself or an invisible person by the name of "Mama." And quite frankly I'd be lying if I said this didn't disturb me just a little bit.