posted on February 05, 2013 00:00
Those of you with children have undoubtedly experienced the need to filter what you say in front of them by a certain age and have also, consequently, probably witnessed the repercussions of not doing so.
When my youngest was born, we pretty much had our names picked out for a few months by then and were just awaiting the sex of the baby. Once this information became obvious, the arguments began as to what we would call the baby now that we officially knew what she would be named.
Sounds crazy, I know, but we humans are obsessed with arguing for months about what our children will be named, yet can’t wait to see how many fucking ways we can alter said name shortly after we’ve originally applied it.
Nicknames should come naturally and you should name the baby what you’re going to call the baby. This is my opinion and I could ramble on for 2,000-words about it. I just don’t understand the whole “we’re going to name him Charles, but call him David, because that was my favorite uncle” bullshit. Then name him goddamn David already.
I once witnessed a new father repeatedly telling anybody in earshot of the lobby at Red Lobster the cool, “outside the box” name he had tagged his poor son with. It was obvious this was done more for his own liking then for the child’s well being. It was so “look at me” and annoying that I swear to Vin Diesel I almost kicked new daddy in the scrotum and tossed the kid in the lobster tank, but not before securing his fingers with a giant rubber band – of course.
Congratulations Pop, you just signed little “Merlin” up for a lifetime of beatings, pink bellies and, if lucky, therapy and possible prison time. Not to mention he has no choice but to turn out an insufferable asshole. He’ll be lucky to get laid by the time he’s thirty and the only blowjob he’ll experience will either be “virtual”, paid for or he’ll be the one GIVING it – not that there’s anything wrong with that.
But hey, your coworkers think that you’re so cool and edgy because you go “against the grain” and name your offspring whatever you damned well please, regardless of societal frowning! Be sure to buy him gothic Onesie’s and that skull and crossbones binky as you stroll him through the outer rims of conformity you goddamned rebel, you!
Okay, off of my soapbox and back to the story. Her mother and her side of the family were stuck on calling our new daughter by a certain, shortened version of her name that I was pretty adamantly opposed to. Not only had I never known an attractive girl by that name in my life, but I was also convinced that this was only due to a popular movie franchise at the time, and the thought of that made me want to listen to Grateful Dead albums forwards.
Every time this would come up, I would be sure to air my concerns with the choice of nickname, as well as elicit laughter from my oldest daughter, insuring she was on my side.
This went on for months and both sides just resigned to calling her what each of us liked. For the record, my family and I chose “Princess McKickass Dad” but that’s neither here nor there.
Their mother took the girls and went shopping one evening, which is punishment enough for anybody, regardless of age. If there is more than 1-color, brand or style to choose from, a decision normally requiring less thought than a script of “Sons of Anarchy” suddenly morphs into a fucking math equation and congressional meeting in the middle of aisle-9.
Anyway, she happened on an old coworker and her children, and they exchanged the normal pleasantries, likely entailing why men suck and thoughts on the most recent piece of shit Nicolas Sparks book released at the time, as if year had any bearing on its’ horrible content.
Upon seeing that her acquaintance had been blessed with an obviously new arrival, she of course asked her name…and then it happened. Her daughter’s name was the exact, shortened version of my youngest one’s that her mother’s family had been so goddamned enamored with.
Beaming with pride and about to share her enthusiasm for such a well-crafted nickname, that only the two of them could POSSIBLY have been inspired by higher beings to conjure up, she was beat to the punch by my oldest, who calmly offered, “My Daddy says only fat bitches have that name.”
Apple – tree – NOT a far fall…KMFP-out!
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