Bobbing Along

Yes, well, I left you hanging on this previous post, didn’t I? Now that I am finally publishing a follow-up to that story, be assured that this post has gone through a rigorous review by the Soon-To-Be-Parents’ Panel of Censorship, comprised of the soon-to-be-parents—Child #3 and Favorite Son-in-Law. For the record, “Meatloaf” was not a name I devised. I can claim “Rooster” and “Peanut” but not “Meatloaf”. Oh, no. The Soon-To-Be Parents asked the Rooster—a four year old, for crying out loud!—what they should name the new baby and the Rooster replied, without any hesitation whatsoever, “Meatloaf“. Except his “l’s” sound like “w’s” so it actually was “Meatwoaf”.

And so, Meatloaf it is. For the time being.

Now the Soon-To-Be-Parents are just a wee bit skittish about this name. They, for example, had selected “Maybe” as a moniker. What? I ask you, WHAT? I saw that sonogram! That’s a baby in there, not maybe a baby, really a baby!! And we are all thrilled about the news. Perhaps Child #3 needs to be reminded of how tiresome it can be to agonize over names. In our family, the naming went something like this:

Son Number One was called by his first name doubled (“Andy-andy”) as if I wasn’t sure who he was so I needed to say it twice. He also knew his numbers and his alphabet, could write his full name, state our address and phone number, and a host of other similar pre-Kindergarten tricks which, at the very least, made me think I was doing a good job as a mother. For all intents and purposes, he was quite ready for Kindergarten.

When Son Number Two came along, his needs were often pre-empted by a more insistent older brother, so much so that his given name was always preceded by “Wait a minute”. Apparently he believed his full name was officially “Wait-a-minute-Ryan”. Not long before he was to start Kindergarten, I realized I wasn’t sure how many of those pre-Kindergarten tricks he could master. A brief tutorial a few nights before the big day, and he too was ready. Off he went to Kindergarten, on time and without a hitch.

And then we come to Child #3, and here the memories become hazy. Quite foggy. Dim. The story I vaguely remember is that on the night before she was to enter Kindergarten, I realized we hadn’t named her at all so we picked a name quickly (yes, right from “The Waltons”), wrote it on a tag, pinned it to her cute little dress and sent her off to school the next day. She’s fine. Just fine. Stronger for it.

So, there you have it: names. Not particularly important at this point. Meatloaf is a working title. So is Maybe. Other names will come, each one inspired by huge amounts of affection especially if bequeathed by adoring grandmothers. Eventually, the new parents will make their own selection and begin the process of teaching the alphabet to that first child. And if their parenting style resembles my own (God forbid) any children that may follow are pretty much on their own.

Note to my Children: No. You are not allowed to comment on this post. Get your own blogs. xoxoxoxox