What’s in a name?

Would you say it’s a tad invasive to plan the life of someone else’s child, given the child has yet to be born?

I would say it’s doing the parents-to-be a favor.

It all began in July (or June, perhaps May, who can keep track?) when my brother and sister-in-law called to say they were pregnant, or as I like to say, “preggers.”

Instantly, my head filled with visions of a saucy new Cincinnati Bengals quarterback who moonlights as a witty late-night talk show host and has an uncanny ability to make mouth-watering meals out of Ramen noodles, canned chicken and blue Kool-Aid (my kitchen staples).

Those dreams were shattered a few weeks later when my parents said the couple had plans to name the baby something “English.”

Though it’s not in my nature to overexaggerate EVER, I instantly thought of Courtney giving birth to a middle-aged, bespectacled Briton named Egbert or Winston who wears suspenders and has an affinity for eating crumpets or scones or minced meat pie.

Nothing against English names and off-color stereotypes, but a 5-year-old on a playground named Winston or Egbert has more to worry about than just tying his shoes, you know?

I’m sure my concoction is not at all what Winston’s or Egbert’s parents envision, and they haven’t even suggested the names Winston and Egbert, but I know a slippery slope when I see one.

It was time for a game plan.

Dun dun dun dun.

Eh, never did get around to that game plan. Between practicing my wicked dance moves and striving to break 100 every week at bowling, I was too busy to meddle with someone else’s life.
Luckily, fate stepped in at the baby shower my sisters and I threw for Courtney, and my fears were assuaged.

Typically, I’d rather listen to those two nasal-voiced guys from “Everybody Loves Raymond” talk about grass growing while watching paint dry than attend a gathering for an anything-to-be.

I don’t enjoy watching other people open presents because I am a snobby brat. I’ll fake a smile and say, “Oh, that’s so cute,” but really, I’m thinking, “Dude, I want presents, too.”

Then there’s the games and the awkward conversations that center around the weather or types of pickles (no joke, every occasion that involves my mother’s side of the family contains at least one argument about sweet gherkins).

This shower was different.

Pickle conversation was at an all-time low.

I got the best birth control ever by hearing about lactating, tearing and epidurals (if you don’t know what any of those words are in reference to and you are a woman, don’t look them up — they will scare you into sterilization).

To boot, I realized that parents-to-be are flooded with questions such as the following:

What pattern do we want for the baby’s bumper? (Another baby term I learned this weekend.)

Do I want to use disposable diapers and thus crap all over the environment, or do I want to use cloth diapers and have the child’s crap all over me?

If I name my child Winston or Egbert, will other kids pull his underwear up over his head (more commonly known as the “atomic wedgie”)?

When parents-to-be have all these things to worry about, it’s no wonder they fall into the snarling, snaking trap millions of other Americans do — my brother and his wife were simply enamored with Harry Potter and just wanted to have themselves a Mini-Potter.

Potter Mania has been everywhere since “Harry Potter and the Magic Jumping Beans” or whatever that book was that came out, so you can see how the couple got swept up by the thought of Lil’ Harry.
Fortunately, I am immune to HP’s wizardry and feel I can guide the two on a better path.

That’s why come December-something when that baby is born, I plan to present mom and dad with my forthcoming book, “The Life and Times of Megalodon: Your Baby’s Future.”

(Note: Megalodon is the name of an ancient shark and the largest predatory fish to have ever lived. With teeth up to 7 inches long and weighing in around 50 tons, he set the tone for many a shark to come.)

I just think Megalodon says, “Hey, I kick ass, and I’m going to do a lot of kick-ass things with my life,” and not “Allo, I’ve got a lovely game of cricket today, and would you like some more Earl Grey?”

Members

Username

Password

Auto-login on future visits

Forgot your password?
Register

What's happening

Add Event Advanced