Name My Child, Please
It may just have to be Fenway Park Vallancourt. With the Missus Jazz due on February 28, we are on deadline, and that is the best name we have come up with if we have a boy. By choosing not to find out the sex of our child, we have to come up with two viable names – kinda like watching a DVD with alternate endings. We’ve had the girl’s name locked up for months, but the Missus could deliver any time before her due date, and we would be stuck without a boy’s name. Baby Boy Vallancourt would be an inauspicious way to start our career as parents.
The Missus and I have spent a great deal of time thinking about names we don’t want.
Common boy names are a minefield of worthless human beings, people we like, but don’t want to think we like well enough to name our child after, or genuinely disliked public figures – not that we would have ever considered George or Condoleeza, but, you get the point. So the trick is to come up with a name that is unusual without being weird.
The Missus Jazz liked Noah for a while, but that happens to be a name I detest for no good reason other than I hate it. It’s not that I think our child wouldn’t possess the ability to build a boat once global warming continues to accelerate throughout the coming century; I just don’t like the name. Thankfully, Noah was killed early on for the Missus when we witnessed a whiny child named Noah struggle to milk a goat at a local farm.
Vallancourt Vallancourt may be the way to go simply because it is going to be called Vallancourt throughout its life if it is a boy, just like its dad. I once had a roommate who came close to telling the person on the other end of the phone that they had a wrong number because the person asked for Chris. “Oh, you mean Vallancourt,” he said when the light of recognition went on.
The next best thing would be to come up with a new creation – kind of like Frank Zappa did with Dweezil and Moon Unit. A child’s name should be like a brand – evocative and mysterious, and eventually ubiquitous. I’ve tried a few of these names on the Missus – Prismatata, Phelistimon, Norubonio, but she just looks at me in that way…
So Fenway Park it is for now, as we get set to pull another all-nighter with the baby name book. |
The Missus and I have spent a great deal of time thinking about names we don’t want.
Common boy names are a minefield of worthless human beings, people we like, but don’t want to think we like well enough to name our child after, or genuinely disliked public figures – not that we would have ever considered George or Condoleeza, but, you get the point. So the trick is to come up with a name that is unusual without being weird.
The Missus Jazz liked Noah for a while, but that happens to be a name I detest for no good reason other than I hate it. It’s not that I think our child wouldn’t possess the ability to build a boat once global warming continues to accelerate throughout the coming century; I just don’t like the name. Thankfully, Noah was killed early on for the Missus when we witnessed a whiny child named Noah struggle to milk a goat at a local farm.
Vallancourt Vallancourt may be the way to go simply because it is going to be called Vallancourt throughout its life if it is a boy, just like its dad. I once had a roommate who came close to telling the person on the other end of the phone that they had a wrong number because the person asked for Chris. “Oh, you mean Vallancourt,” he said when the light of recognition went on.
The next best thing would be to come up with a new creation – kind of like Frank Zappa did with Dweezil and Moon Unit. A child’s name should be like a brand – evocative and mysterious, and eventually ubiquitous. I’ve tried a few of these names on the Missus – Prismatata, Phelistimon, Norubonio, but she just looks at me in that way…
So Fenway Park it is for now, as we get set to pull another all-nighter with the baby name book. |
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