The Boy Who Lost His Name

The boy looked up and was much alarmed to see his Mother’s ears were twitching wildly and had, indeed, turned the colour of a newly painted fire engine. She bent down until her face was so close the boy could smell that she’d had prawns or possibly smoked salmon for lunch. Then she opened her mouth as wide as it could possibly go and bellowed.
“DO WHAT EXACTLY, YOU SILLY, SILLY LITTLE BOY?”
“I lost my name”, whispered the boy and flinched, expecting at any second, to be clipped round the top of his head.