1,000,000 Baby Names
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Naming Your Baby
Names That Sound Good When You Scream Them
Names That Won't Get Your Baby Beat Up On The Playground
Baby name books and websites. The all-consuming task of naming your little bundle. You spend millions of hours trying to find that perfect one. You ask all your family and friends. You agonize over the spelling. You even wonder how that would look monogrammed on tea towels. Then you have a toddler and possibly some more Scribblers running around and...
What was their name again?
You are minding your own business, doing whatever 15 tasks at one time that a mother is required to be able to do. Stirring the food in the pot, pulling something out of the fridge with the other hand, doing the math on the coupons in your head, rocking the bouncy seat with one foot, pulling clothes out of the dryer with the other foot, licking a postage stamp and the using your left over spit to try to clean the toothpaste off your shirt...and you hear a crash, scream, tears, more crashing and the running of little feet.
Be...Bu...Bi...Sa...Da...(incoherently you scream out the first part of everyone's name not knowing exactly what their names are anyways) WHOEVER YOU ARE...COME HERE!
The Scribblers line up in front of me. The tears are spilling and the words are jumbled as each tries to spit out the story of what happened. A broken picture frame is produced from behind the back of one of them.
Seeing how all of your appendages are busy doing other tasks, a verbal lashing will just have to suffice for now.
Here's where the real speech problem comes in. You are so mad, not only can you not figure out what their names are (although you have a good idea thanks to the monogrammed shirts they have on) you try to convey your frustration, censor yourself, get out 15 directions at once and still let them know they are loved.
You'd better....why did you...you know...I am about to...what were you...you know not to....geepers, I just love...can't you see I'm...MAN!
How our children will ever learn to talk in complete sentences, I will never know.
The Scribblers look at me in utter confusion. They look at each other. They nod knowingly at the unspoken message between each other as the assess the "Mother Situation"
"When Momma gets a speech impediment it means real trouble. Say "I love you, Mommy" and slowly back away..."
I am still trying to stutter out the verbal discipline when I notice there are no Scribblers around. I turn back to the now boiling over pot of food, the crying baby, the stamp that won't stick and the toothpaste stain that is now been smeared to a 2 foot size resembling a Miss America sash across my shirt and say what I wanted to say all along.