Choosing baby names in the digital age

It was all so much easier when I was choosing baby names. You liked a name and wrote it on a list. Or you had a book of names, and you flicked through it. Now, you can get websites to generate names for you, and avail yourself of naming wizards, and really, you only have yourself to blame if you don't find the perfect name.

Another consideration, these days, is the digital form your baby's name will take. You might take less pleasure in calling your new baby Katharine, for example, if you thought she'd be signing herself K8, or K8EE. I really liked the name Elsie, but now I'm glad I didn't choose it. It lends itself too easily to LC.

Any name that ends in an x (Beatrix, Max, Felix... there are some great ones in this category), now looks to me like it's got a kiss at the end of it, somehow.

Then there's the pitfall of the autocorrect. I have a friend with a son named Fingal, and every time I text her, I'm in severe danger of enquiring how Fungal is.

Anyone else with any stories of autocorrect woes, in the area of names?

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Name corruptions

Good to know that we're not the only family which has a ridiculous range of names for its dog. Thanks for your comments. Hector is also Hectorious, Hectoroo, What-the-Hec, and probably several others that have slipped my mind.

Over Christmas, and as a result of the influence of my sister, 8-yo got very interested in Strictly Come Dancing. She joined the "Can't Bear Bruce Forsyth" club, and was generally very taken with the glamour and glitz of it all. Hector played his part. She would pick him up, hold him tight, and whirl round the room with him, saying "This is Strictly Come Dogging! This is Strictly Come Dogging!"

Oh dear. Perhaps she'll have forgotten, by the time next season comes round.
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What's in a name?

It takes a while to adjust to family life with a puppy. We're still in that process. It's very much like having small children. Just as you've got used to one stage, they're on to the next. You can never relax and think you've cracked it (though foolishly, you do). For example, Hector's now getting more adventurous, and likes to wander off on walks, and won't come when I call, not even for a little lump of cheese. Not even for cheese! Cheese has always worked up till now. It's lost its magic overnight.

On the positive side, he managed the 400 mile drive to my mother's house, with only one stop at a motorway service station for food, water and pee, in exemplary fashion. He was in his crate in the back of the car, in total silence. I even wondered if we'd left him in the service station car park by accident. The great thing about travelling with a puppy, is that you don't have to listen to endless nursery rhyme CDs, or play I-Spy.

Hector spent three nights with a home boarder while we were away for New Year (cheaper than kennels, actually, before you think I've totally sold out on the dog comforts front). I think it knocked him into shape a little. He was rather subdued for a day when he came home. There was an older, bigger dog there, and it made him realise his place in the pecking order. I've got this dog psychology down, you can tell.

The woman texted me on the first evening, saying that he'd settled well, and that they'd enjoyed a walk, and how good he was on the lead for a puppy. My owner heart swelled with pride. "Good on the lead for a puppy" - yes!  I deliberately didn't get in touch for the next couple of days (he's a dog, not a child), but when I texted to make arrangements for picking him up, she texted back that he'd been doing fine, that they had loved having him, and that he'd been behaving "just as a puppy should". I thought that said it all. Bless her euphemistic heart.

8-yo was chatting to Husband the other day:

"Hector has lots of names, doesn't he? Mum and I call him Hector or Hectie. 12-yo calls him Heckipoo. 15-yo calls him Li'l Buddy. And you call him Foul Beast."

Here's a picture of him, getting on for 6 months old, in (somewhat uncharacteristic) reflective mood.

And here's the sign that hangs above his crate.

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Birth certificates

I've just been trying (again) to apply for child benefit. (Now there's a blog post, explaining to my American friends why on earth the government gives you money to look after your child.) I've ticked all the boxes. I've downloaded Adobe Something Latest Version, I've found my children's birth certificates, I've wished on the full moon, but I still can't get the online form to appear. It doesn't seem that you can use the website to request a form to be put in the post to you. The two choices are either to fill in the form online, or to use the one in your new parent Bounty pack, which was given to you in hospital. Fifteen years ago, in my case. I've just phoned the Child Benefit helpline, but they're very busy. All their operators are very busy. So busy, that I couldn't even be put in a queue. They told me I had to phone back later. When I've emerged from my medieval peasant yearnings phase.

I feel I deserve a gold star for finding my children's birth certificates, though. Go on. Give me a gold star. I've moved half way across the world. I have only had internet access in my home for 2 days. I have no idea what the PIN number for my debit card is, so I'm living entirely on credit. I can't remember whether to say shedule or skedule.  I have no idea what most of the television I watch is about. The great majority of our paperwork is in stacks, or in boxes. And still I found our children's birth certificates. That must be a gold star. Actually, Husband found them, but I'm taking the credit, because... I can't think of a good reason. I'm just doing it.

Anyway, it's always interesting looking at birth certificates, isn't it? Most parents spend hours and hours choosing a name for their child, but we never think about the name of the registrar who will sign their birth certificate. Our oldest child's was signed by Helen Kettle. Our third's by Sheila Moist. Ms Kettle and Ms Moist! What fabulous names! I think the government could make a penny or two here. Just as people pay to have a personalised number plate on their car, I think there would be potential for charging for the kudos of having someone with an interesting name sign your child's birth certificate. Then the government could use the extra revenue to post out child benefit application forms.

Our second child had his birth certificate signed by A. Lumsden. A disappointingly ordinary name. I can only hope that the suspiciously anonymous A. stood for something interesting. Aardvark, or Anorak.

The cat is out of the bag: Part ll

When we were first thinking of getting a dog, I filled in a questionnaire on a website to help pick a breed. Did I want a big dog? Did I want dog that didn't moult? Did I have a garden? That kind of thing. I eagerly waited while it loaded the results... "We're sorry. We have no suggestions for a breed that suits your requirements." Hm. Well, I had been a little idealistic. I wanted a dog that was good with children, strangers, other dogs, didn't moult at all, wouldn't need too much exercise, wouldn't mind being left alone, wouldn't slobber, would be easy to train, probably would be prepared to stand for Parliament too. I tried again, tempering my answers with realism. It came up with one suggestion: the Mexican Hairless (which looks somewhat like a rat, in my opinion). I clearly needed to loosen up on the "no moulting" issue.

I've moved in my thinking since that questionnaire. I'm torn, though. I have two requirements that pull in opposite directions. I want a dog I can train. I'm prepared to put in the time and effort, and learn how to do it properly. I want a dog who's obedient, reliable, and who will come when called (crucial if you're living on a boarding school campus, don't you think?). I'm thinking Labrador, in spite of it being such a cliche. But I also want a small dog, because our house isn't huge. I grew up with Border Terriers, so I'm comfortable with them, and I also like the idea of a Scottie or a Westie. Because I realise I can't have a terrier-sized Labrador, or an obedient Terrier, I've started thinking about a middle option, but nothing seems just right. What I'm really hoping, though, is that we won't find a dog, but that the dog will find us. I'm hoping our paths will just cross. Perhaps when we move to Edinburgh, someone will know someone who has a bitch who's just whelped, and that we will get a puppy on the basis of the known loveliness of the mother.

I'm rather prejudiced against rescue dogs, though I know they can be a big success, (so no offence intended to those of you with rescue dogs). First, we want a puppy, and those are rare in rescue centres. Second, I witnessed a sad story involving a rescue dog that seemed fine, but wasn't, and it put me off the idea.

As for names, currently we're on Bracken for a bitch, and Hector or Mungo for a dog. The dog names are from Hector's House, and Mary, Mungo and Midge. Thank heavens for Youtube, with which we've been able to educate our children on those favourites from our childhood past. Remember Hector? He really was a very splendid dog. I'll include a little snippet at the end of this post for you. You'll enjoy having your memory cells tickled with the theme tune.

Our favourite name, but one we will never be able to use, is Headmaster. Husband told us that in a boarding school, the Principal is usually addressed as "Headmaster". It occurred to me that if we named our dog Headmaster, that would give rise to endless opportunities for mirth. "Get down, Headmaster." "Time for walkies, Headmaster." "What are you doing in those bushes, Headmaster?" "Stop sniffing your friends' bottoms, Headmaster." We've had a lot of fun with the idea. I just hope the children keep a straight face when they meet the man.

Well, we didn't manage to shock our children visibly with the announcement of our decision, but we do shock them every time we talk about dogs and bitches. "Ooooh, Mummy used the B word!" screeches my daughter, in horrified delight.  11-yo and 8-yo genuinely didn't know that the word 'bitch' was anything other than a crude insult. Even though we've explained the original meaning of the word, they still experience a shiver of something naughty every time it comes up.

Now it's time for Hector. (Amazing, by the way, how expressive he can be, though he has no moving facial features - well, I suppose the bottom of his mouth goes up and down, but that's not a great boon for expression, is it? It's all in the voice. Even if you don't want to watch all five minutes, watch just a little bit.)

The cat is out of the bag: Part l

Except it's not a cat. It's a dog.

Yes, Bloggy Friends, we have succumbed. And now we have to explain to our children why it is, that having argued very vociferously and effectively against having a dog for the past, ooh, ten years or so, we now think it's a good idea. The parental u-turn (great post on that subject here, by the way). We do, however, have very good grounds for a change of mind. Or is it a change of heart? Perhaps both. For starters, we didn't want to obtain a dog which, one day, we'd have to ship from one continent to another. We didn't want a dog when we were in the habit of spending over two months away from home in the summer. We didn't want a dog in a climate in which for several weeks of the year it's either too cold or too hot to exercise it. We didn't live near an open space. But now we're moving, the children are getting older and therefore able to take more responsibility, and financially we're in a better position too. So we do have reliable reasons. Wow. Writing that list, I've even persuaded myself. I also think it will help us all settle in a new place, if help is needed.

I had been looking forward to telling the children. They've wanted a dog for so long, and have raised the topic of conversation so many times. A couple of years ago, they even did a PowerPoint presentation to us on the subject. When Husband and I had finally decided in favour of a canine addition to the family, we wondered if it would be fun simply to wait until the next time one of the children tried the opening gambit of "can we get a dog?", and casually reply "yes, okay then". We knew we probably wouldn't have to wait long. But in the end, we decided to tell them straight out (I was getting a bit bored of having to delete all my browsing history on the computer). I was anticipating the moment with relish. I imagined them jumping up and down with excitement, eyes wide, faces bright. What actually happened was a rather puzzled and subdued response. "Really? For real? Really?" They didn't believe us. I think they knew that we wouldn't be mean enough to tease them, pretending we'd decided to get a dog but not following through. But somehow they couldn't fully embrace the alternative, that we really had decided to get one.

Well, the initial response might have been subdued, but since we told them, the excitement has been mounting. Breed choice, gender choice, name choice, and general dog talk, have dominated the conversation. Much browsing on the internet has been done, usually involving terribly cute pictures of puppies. We've got a couple of doggie magazines (also with cute pictures). I originally wanted a dachshund named Jasper, but neither breed nor name has met with enthusiasm from the rest of the family. Ultimately the decision will be mine and Husband's - predominantly mine, since it will be me who will take most of the responsibility for the dog. But I don't want to make an unpopular choice, so the field is open. More about that in the next post.

Who were you at CyberMummy?

I have a real life friend (yes, honestly) who follows my blog faithfully, and comments as either Josephine or Someonesmrs. She left a comment on my previous post, which I thought would make rather a good post in itself. She said:

When you lot all meet up (I am a non-blogger; I just lurk at others blogs) do you call each other Potty, Nappy, HomeOfficeMum or whatever, or do you find out each other's real names and use them, and then is it weird to come back to blogosphere names again?

Yes, that is an interesting point. Who am I at CyberMummy? At this point, I want to witter off into pages and pages of musings about identity, because this is an aspect of blogging that I find truly fascinating. But I'll restrain myself, or I'll restrain Iota at any rate (aaargh, see what I mean...), and I'll just answer the question, and then let you all answer it too.

When I introduced myself to people I didn't know at CyberMummy, waggling my lanyard in front of them, I tended to say "I'm Iota, my blog is The Iota Quota, my real name is Myrealname". But that didn't happen very often because honestly I wasn't all that interested in meeting new random people. I was either with people I knew, or looking out specifically for people I wanted to meet. A couple of friends I already knew did ask me at CyberMummy "would you rather be Iota or Yourrealname?", and I replied that either was fine. That's honestly how I feel. I answer to either name. In the context of CyberMummy, I suppose I felt more easy with the name Iota. It's who I am in the blogging world. And I really like the name. I like it more than Myrealname, actually.

That probably answers your second question too, "Josephine". For me, it's not weird at all to skip from one name to the other. I'm quite happy being Myrealname in a conversation, and then commenting the following day on someone's post as Iota. I'm just a crazy mixed-up kid.


What about the rest of you? Did you use your real names, and if so, how did it feel reverting to your blog name in the blogosphere? If you email blogging friends, do you use your blog name or your real name? And how does having a twitter handle add to the mix?

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Tales from the...

... shh, you know I'm not writing this blog. But if I was, I'd tell you about...

... the person I met today whose little boy is called Soya.

... how I posted a transaction for over $22 million by mistake. Something for my boss to sort out when she balances the books.

... the woman who bought a toy for a child whose name she couldn't remember (not her own child - at least, that's what she said).

... how at home I feel with a boss and coworkers who get my English sense of humour. They are truly like an oasis in a desert. It's such a relief to be able to make jokes in horribly bad taste, and know that people will laugh uproariously rather than be offended. Jokes, like saying that the electronic talking-singing toys might have been inspired by... by... no, too much bad taste for a blog, sorry.

... how I wish Playmobil and Lego used different coloured boxes. They are both an identical blue, and it makes life very complicated. Is it a stand-off between the Germans and Danes?

"Ve choze ze blue first. Ve vill not change to anuzzer colour."

"We may be a smaller country than you, but we have a statue of a mermaid in the harbour of our capital city, and we, too, will not change to another colour." (Sorry, can't attempt a rendition of English spoken in a Danish accent.)

... how you should never ever assume that you are alone in the shop, because otherwise, you might be boogie-ing along to a kid's song, snapping your fingers and wiggling your bottom, and find out that, oops, a customer is watching you.

PS It was actually Sawyer (as in Tom Sawyer). I had to ask, because I just couldn't get my mind round Soya, and I didn't want to refer to the child as 'your son' in every future conversation.

Indian Autumn

It's autumn. I love autumn, and I always feel more content in myself and with the world somehow. Perhaps it's become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Oh gosh, it's autumn, let me see... do I feel more content in myself and with the world somehow?... do I?... yes... yes... I believe I do!

I've blogged about autumn here before, and posted lots of photographs of lovely trees (you can click on the label at the bottom if you're interested). It's just such a beautiful season, and here, the weather is still warm enough to enjoy being out and about. It's mostly in the 70s, but still a day here and there in the 80s. Perfect. Sorry for those of you in any part of the world (mentioning no names) where it's grey and cold and drizzly.

I don't know much about how Indians chose their names, beyond watching Dances with Wolves, but if I had to choose myself a name inspired by my character or by the natural world, it would be something to do with autumn. Either that or Heap Big Laundry Heap, which would also be fitting.

What would your Indian name be?

And on the subject of Indians, I really haven't fathomed what to call them yet. I know that there will be people wincing as they read this post, because it's just not pc to use the word 'Indian' in many circles. In my early blogging days, I caused hilarity on the East Coast, by describing my 'pool cover-up' as a 'squaw dress'. (Funny to think there was a time when I didn't know what a 'pool cover-up' was...) But anyway, back to Indians. People DO talk about Indians round here, and we have an Indian Center in town, which is unashamedly called The Indian Center. When we went to Colorado last year, we watched a display of traditional Indian dancing at an Indian museum, and the word 'Indian' was used throughout.

So two questions, then. What would your personal Indian name be? And what should I call Indians?

300 not out

“I think you’d be a great addition to the team”, the Toy Shop Owner said.

Yay! I’m starting a week tomorrow, doing probably a couple of days a week, 10.00am to 3.00pm, in September, and building up as necessary through October, November, and the busiest period of the year in December. I love the fact that this has all fallen into place so easily. One phone call. That’s all it took. Sometimes you get a lucky break, and this has been one of mine. All I need now is a social security number. And there I was, thinking that getting the green card marked the end of the bureaucracy…

The children are so excited. I’ve just picked up 9-yo from school, and he’s already told his whole class, two teachers and the principal. Not bad going in one afternoon.

This is my 300th blog post. I still haven’t decided on a new name (I thought I might launch the new name at the 300th post, but it’s snuck up on me.) I’m thinking I might just call the blog “Iota”. Is that a bit pretentious? I really wish we lived in Iowa, because then I could be “Iota in Iowa”. Then we should move to an island off the coast of Scotland, and I could be “Iota: from Iowa to Iona”.

I like my profile picture, of the notice nailed to the tree trunk, and I was wondering about tying the name in with that. How about “Iota stakes her claim”? Kind of assertive. Or perhaps a reference to the American writing style: “Iota: discursive in cursive”. I’ve wondered about:

Iota, actually
Iota, Stateside
Iota’s Quota, which would abbreviate rather pleasingly to IQ.
Iota, Wife in the West
Iota on the Great Plains… She’s Great, but she isn’t Plain. Trouble with that, is that one slip of the keyboard, and you’re into “She’s Great, but she isn’t Palin”, and then I’d attract all kinds of unwanted political traffic.

Of course there’s still “Among the Bison with my Dyson”. I can’t rule that one out yet. It has so much potential for a fantastic visual image on the header.

What about tornadoes? They’re the other well-known feature of life in the Midwest. How about “Torn ado about nothing”? No? Thought not.

Sorry to be wittering on so much about names, but they are important things. Colgate, for example, is (I’m told) ‘hang yourself’ in Spanish. Persil is ‘parsley’ in French (and I believe it is marketed in France under that name). And who, who on earth, thought that Pepto-Bismol was a good name for a medicine for indigestion? It just sounds like 'Pept-Abysmal'. Mind you, I do wonder if the Pepto-Bismol marketing department operates on some kind of reverse psychology, because no-one in their right mind would consider buying medicine for indigestion that lurid pink colour. No-one except Barbie, and clearly she never gets indigestion because she never eats anything except Slim-fast.

Barbie… toys… toyshop… job… All witterings come full circle if you let them run their course.

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In need of an identity

I am a member of a very select group within British Mummy Bloggers. I'm one of a small number who don't have a profile picture. But times are a-changing, and I thought it was a good moment to show my face.

Not literally. Oh no no no. I like hiding away behind words. And that is why I have chosen the following as my profile picture.

I played with various type faces. This one is called Britannic Bold, which I thought might be apt, but it's too brash, don't you think?

Then there was this. I can't remember what it's called, but 12-yo said it was cool.



But I decided to stick with the first, because it was the closest I could find to American cursive, which is so iconic. It just says "America" to me. Personally, I can't see the point of teaching generations of school kids two entirely different styles of writing. They learn printing for three laborious years, and then just as they've mastered that, they have to knuckle under (almost literally) and learn a completely different style. You go from what one teacher described to me as "sticks and balls" to this curly and ornate script that isn't far from copperplate. In Britain, it seems to me that you learn one set of letters, and then you simply learn how to join them up. For those of you who understand these things (and I don't include myself among you), I think I'm a fan of D'Nealian writing.

Enough of all that. In sum, I thought Iota in American cursive script would be a suitable visual cue for this blog. I used a lower case i because the upper case I in American cursive is pretty much unrecognisable (several of the upper case cursive letters are, actually, which is another of my beefs with it). A capital I looks like a T or a P, and I didn't want to become Tota or Pota.

You probably want to know why it's nailed to a tree in my back yard. Well, that's just what I did. I expect there's something sub-conscious going on. Perhaps it's religious imagery. Perhaps it's meant to be like a 'Wanted' poster. Maybe I just wanted to hang it on the tree that I look at out of the window when I sit at the computer. Who knows? I certainly don't.

So what do you think?

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Identity revealed

Here's a final conundrum.

Why did I pick Iota Manhattan as my blog-writing name?

Aha! I can help you with that one. It's an anagram of my maiden name. When I was about 14 or 15, one wet lunch break, stuck in the classroom, I and a friend or two or three occupied ourselves by making up anagrams of the names of people in our class. (I know, I know, most teenage girls talk about boys and make-up. I and my friends made up anagrams. What can I say?) I thought Iota Manhattan was so fabulous, I said "if I ever write something, I'll use it as my pen-name", and so I have.

Apart from my own, my favourite anagram name was Helga R. Cespit. Honestly. I can't give you the original name, in case she googles herself and lands here. I'm not sure we ever told her...

Iota is the Greek letter 'I', of course, so it's very apt for a writing persona. Manhattan gives an American flavour, appropriate now in a way that I could never have foreseen as my teenage self. I do also enjoy a secret ironic chuckle because, as you probably have realised, my location, though American for sure, is a pretty long way, geographically and culturally, from Sarah Jessica Parker territory.

I'm not going to respond to any guesses in the comments section, by the way. I'm not revealing my real name, maiden or married, on the blog. If you're a puzzle-fiend, and you want to have a guess, you can email me and I'll tell you if you've got it right.

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More about names

You have to be careful, talking about names. They're such personal things. So if I offend you, in this post, I'm sorry. This is all just my private opinion, and you should treat it as such. I'm sure many people think my choice of children's names is boring and traditional. As I say, it's all just personal choice.

The trend in children's names round here, in kids aged up to about 8, is to give them as a first name what has previously been a surname. (A couple of commenters on my last post have noticed the same thing.) Of course it's not a brand new phenomenon, but it seems very out of control at the moment.

I first noticed three years ago, when I was looking round a preschool for my daughter. It struck me as odd that some of the pegs had labels with the child's first name on them, and some with the child's surname. It seemed inconsistent. Duuuh... They were all first names.

Without even stopping to think, I can tell you I know an Emerson, Aniston, Saylor, Baylor, Taylor, Tyler, Kinsley, Peyton, Peighton, Hampton (known as Hamps), Mackenzie, Shakespeare. And that's just the girls. Among the boys, there is Garrett, Gannon, Cannon, Colton, Colson, Carson, Haydon, Braydon, Brandon, Brenden, Jackson, Archer, and I could go on. (I made Shakespeare up, by the way, but it wouldn't surprise me.)

I've been in situations where two children in the room share a name, one as a first name and one as a surname. In fact (and I'm not making this up, honestly), I once had a marvellous trio. There was Thomas Clark, Clark Taylor, and Taylor Bryant in a group. I was so desperate for a Bryant Thomas to come by, and make a perfect square, but it didn't happen.

My personal favourite, though, is a little girl called Brityn. I often help out with her Sunday School class, and I always love it if they do a craft activity. It gives me the opportunity to look at her piece of work and say enthusiastically "Wow, good job. That's so great, Brityn." But I say it inwardly without the comma. And an upper case G. I'm sorry. I can't help myself. I know it's naughty, but it doesn't do any harm. Allow me my little private expat joke.

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Names

While we're on the subject of accents, here's a thing. When you name your children, you don't usually stop to think what their names will sound like in the accent of another country (unless you're living there already, as Jenny Rudd's comment on my previous post shows). I did think about North/South pronunciation, since we have family in both, but it didn't occur to me to think about the American pronunciation.

Your darling Scott, or John, over here will become Scaahtt, or Jaahn. Any name you chose with a T in the middle of it, risks the fate of the word dentist. So Peter will be Peder, Katie will be Kadie. A name ending -er will suffer the fate of being sucked back into the mouth and chewed around with those extra -rrrs. Esther becomes Esthrrr, Alexander becomes Alexandrrr, and Peter becomes Pedrrr (boy, am I glad we didn't choose Peter as a name). You need to watch out for extra R sounds sneaking into names such as Mark, Clare, Eleanor, Gertie, Dirk, Percy (haven't come across any of those last three, as it happens...)

Then there's the unfortunate vowel sound in Anna, or Ann. She becomes Eena, or Een. Or on a bad day, Ee-un. The same problem with Jane, which sounds like Jean.

If you agonised between Laura and Lara for your baby girl, then you'll discover what a waste of time that was when you get here. They sound the same. Joseph is pronounced with a hard S sound, as in seaside, not as we say it in England, as if with a z. Paula sounds like parlour.

Then there's the whole boy's name girl's name conundrum. I've come across two male Gails. Jamie can be male or female, and is spelt as many different ways as you can think of. It still surprises me when I hear of a boy called Erin. It's Aaron, actually, but they pronounce it Erin round here. The boy's name Sean sounds like the girl's name Sian. A girl introduced to you as Don, is in fact Dawn.

It's probably just as well I didn't know we'd be living in America. It was hard enough choosing names for our babies as it was...

Terms of endearment

What do you call small children, if you don’t know their names? Or just as a term of endearment.

When we lived in the south of England, it was Darling, Sweetheart, or Lovey.

Then in Scotland, it could be any of those, or sometimes Toots (which I loved). To a boy, it might be Big Man (funny, that). My son had a teacher in Primary 1 who called each child Lovely, and she had them eating out of her hand, so there must be something in that.

I know in the North East it is often Pet (which my mother still calls me, although she isn’t from the North East).

Here in the Midwest it’s Pumpkin, Sweet Pea, Honey (which becomes Hon, or Honeybun), Sweetie, and Darling (which I love, because of the way they say it: Darrlin’). I think I’ve heard Peanut once or twice. I do call my friends' kids Honey, and that feels ok, but I think I'll have to be here a few more years before it comes naturally to me to call a child Pumpkin.

What fond term do adults use to address small children round your way?

What's in a name? - Part III

They held a mock election in 11-yo's school (middle school). McCain won by 4 votes. He voted for Obama, in spite of the fact that one of his friends told him that Obama supported terrorists.

7-yo has also been told that Obama supports terrorists, is a terrorist, in fact. They're not holding an election in his school (lower school), which he is sad about. He'd vote for McCain. "Why would you vote for McCain?" I asked. "Because it sounds like candy cane, and I like candy canes", he replied with a grin.

Now there's an angle that I'll bet the Republican PR people haven't thought of using.

What's in a name? - Part II

Is anyone else amused by the fact that, with all this talk about the old enmity between Britain and Iceland during the cod wars, our current Ambassador to Iceland is called Ian Whiting? (He spells it Whitting, but he can’t fool us.) I think he needs to update the Embassy web page. His welcome statement reads

"I am delighted and privileged to serve as British Ambassador in Reykjavik.
The UK and Iceland enjoy excellent relations, with extensive links in every field of activity. I am looking forward to developing this partnership still further as we encounter the challenges and opportunities of an increasingly globalised world."

Let's hope he still feels delighted and privileged to be encountering those "challenges and opportunities" in what he so correctly identified when he wrote that statement as our "increasingly globalised world".

Another name that amuses me is Nastia Liukin’s. I mean, why didn't her parents stick with Anastasia, instead of shortening it to Nastia? Is she the middle child of a trio, Nasti, Nastia and Nastiest? Or is her older sister a famous beauty queen, and they chose Nastia so they could say “Our second daughter is Nastia Liukin, but liuks aren't everythin”. Or is Nastia a clever word play on GymNastia? So many questions.

My third name observation comes from seeing signs stuck in people’s front lawns with the names “Obama - Biden” on them. They look like this:



and yes, you do see quite a lot of them even here in red states heartland.






Does anyone else misread this as Osama Bin Laden, or is that just me? I mean, Obama is pretty darn close to Osama. Biden is three letters short of Bin Laden. If you take Bin Laden and remove those three letter from the middle, then as the French say, oop-la, or in this case n-la, you get Biden.

But then McCain is clearly all about pizza and oven chips, and Palin is too close to Pain for comfort, so there isn't a clear winner on the name ticket.

What's in a name?

I really hesitated to write this post. The choice of names for children is such a sensitive subject among parents. But then when I thought of how much my English readers would enjoy it, I couldn't resist.

I met a mom with a small son whom she introduced as Camp. Short for Campbell, she explained. Ooooh noooo....