It has been well documented that we have been struggling with names. This is something I did not expect. I mean, I am obsessed with names and have been my whole life. I am super cool like that. Since I was a little girl, I would pour over name books and pick out the names of my future children. I had lists and lists of them.
When we found out that I was knocked up, I was super excited about the naming potential, I imagined us having cosy evenings surrounded by my name books (I have 11 don't you know) and making brand new lists of names that we both loved.
Tis not to be.
This is an example of our general naming conversations:
Steve: Grape. Next. What about Gabriel?
Me: Slept with one.
Steve: Oh yes, the vertically challenged boyfriend before me.
Me: OK, I have got it... Cassius.
Steve: I think that a Cassius has to be black.
Me: Put on the list for the next baby then.
Steve: Very funny. Ooooh... Roman?
Me: Like it. But it makes me think of Roman Polanski which makes me think of raping drug induced 14 year olds and I really don't want to think of raping drug induced 14 year olds when I hear my son's name.
Steve: Duly noted. Right, according to Mike who has googled 'Coolest boys name ever', the best name is Bounty.
Me: I am not naming my son after the chocolate that is left in the bottom of the Celebrations tub every Christmas.
Steve: So we are back to Baby Boy.
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