Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Naming Privileges and Ugly Kids

Two events have precipitated this post:

1.  I had a dream the other night.  In the dream, I had a baby and Handsome & I named her Georgiana.  *Please note that I'm not in love with the name Georgiana.*  Anyhow, Handsome's cousin has a baby named Gianna, and we wanted to call our baby Gigi, but had to check first with said cousin to make sure she wasn't planning to call her baby Gigi.  Because, you know, Gigi is a popular nickname for kids these days.  And we wouldn't want them to fight at Christmas when the present says Gigi.  She did not, in fact, want to call her baby Gigi.  Imagine that.

2.  Handsome and I were on a long-ish trip (5 hours) and were talking about my sister and her soon-to-be-born baby.  While discussing names, we got caught up inside another conversation about adoption.  And it goes like this:
Handsome:  If you buy a kid (how he likes to rephrase the word "adopt") from Africa, deep in the heart of Africa, you can't just go and name him Bob
Me: Then what would you suggest naming a kid from "deep in the heart of Africa"?
Handsome: Ra-ki-ki-ki-ki.
Me:  And you think this would help Ra-ki-ki-ki fit in here in America?
Handsome: -ki.
Me: What?
Handsome: You forgot the fourth "ki".  His name is Ra-ki-ki-ki-ki.
Me: I'm done with this.

So, in light of these recent events, I thought I would pull a story out of the archives, dust it off, and share it with you.  The title of my story is, "Why Handsome had his naming privileges revoked".

Setting the scene: Its my freshman year of high school.  Yep, thats right, Handsome and I go waaaay back.  I didn't really know the kid, but I had been assigned to be his lab partner for most of the year in Biology.  He claims to have spent the majority of the year peering down my shirt, but this fact I can neither confirm nor deny.

We were paired up (again) for the section in biology about the human gene and heredity and whatnot.  The gist of the experiment was we had to flip a coin to determine the facial construction of two babies.  Would they have close-set or wide-set or normal-set eyes?  Would they have a unibrow or no?  Attached or detached earlobes? And so on.

We do the experiment, and then we have to draw these two poor, unfortunate kids.  

***Let me take this moment to explain to you that I hold no high hopes for our future children, especially if these guys were any indication.  On principle, I feel that if we expect to have ugly, dumb children, and then end up with mediocre looking, mildly intelligent kids, we'll be ecstatic.  I like ecstatic.

Finally, as the final step, we must name the children, then hang up the drawings for all to see.  
We've got a girl and a boy to name.  Here is the final scene:

Me: I want to name the girl.  Are you okay with that?  Then you can name the boy.
Him: Sure. 
Me: Ok, then I name the girl Reagan.
Him: Ok.
Me: So... what are you going to name the boy?
Him: Oh, yeah, uhm.  Ronald.
Me: Ronald?
Him: Yeah.  Why, whats wrong with it?  Its the first name that came to mind?
Me: Of course it is!  Reagan.  Ronald.  Ronald Reagan, our 40th president! 
       (I had to look up the number just now)
Him: Well, you said I could name the boy, and thats what I want to name him.
Me: Fine, but you are never naming anything ever again.

And so it came to pass, in that moment, Handsome's naming privileges were forever revoked.  
Given the tiny amount of thought he put into naming his offspring, perhaps his interests were indeed engaged elsewhere; I cannot say for certain.

He's also not allowed to pick songs for occasions, because he wanted our first dance at our wedding to be to this song.  But thats a story for another day.

Veto-er of all things to-be-named, 

1 comment:

  1. This was too funny! I needed that laugh!


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