Tony and I were half-listening to talkback radio when a young boy came on the kids trivia show that was running at that moment.

And because he has the same name as Blob – should Blob turn out to be a boy – we were cheering him on the entire drive back. (He turned out to be brilliant, by the way. Didn’t run to mommy for help once. Answered every question on his own steam. Not like the next little kid named Dallas. I was so proud.)

Names. One of the coolest things you get to do as a parent is name another human being.

A colleague was telling me how if she had a dollar for every person who volunteered their own name for her unborn son, she would have started her maternity leave ages ago. Her one piece of advice to me was to never ever tell anyone else what we’re planning to name Blob. Because until Blob is born and the name is set in stone (or on the birth certificate), everyone will have an opinion.

And really, you don’t want to hear any of it. All you want to hear is, “Awwww… what a beautiful name!” 

And not,

  • “Grmmmph!” (suppressed laughter)
  • “Really? Don’t  you think the kids in school will tease him/her?”
  • “Have you ever thought of spelling it this way instead?”
  • “I think it’d be such a wonderful idea if you named Blob after [insert family relation] instead.”
  • “Oh dear… how should I put this…”

I consider myself warned.

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