So I’ve wondered a lot about how people come to match their name.  People often talk about how kids *are* their name at a pretty young age and I’ve seen it too.  How does that happen?  Are parents psychic or does the kid evolve into her name?  Or is it all just a freaky coincidence? 

There’s a kid I know who’s Oliver, and at three he’s a total Oliver, he simply could not be a Mike or a Steve.  He’s an easy going kid with a big smiley moon face, ginger hair and glasses.  He’s is completely and totally an Oliver and an Ollie.  And that’s not a common name.  So were his parents in on something?  Or the minute it’s decided do the naming gods say, ok got it…..imperfect eyesight and ginger hair coming right up.

That whole question freaked me out because here I am saddling a kid with a name that he’ll have for life unless he actively changes it and what if I’m creating a Fitzgerald, a Brutus or, god forbid, a Guido by naming him that?  Or can I intuitively respond to some sense of who the kid is or will become with any accuracy?

First born Angus was a kicker when he was in utero.  At five months pregnant mothers would ask me if I’d felt the baby move. They’d say, ah it’s so beautiful,  it feels like a mouse or spider crawling across your stomach (um, gross).  And I didn’t feel anything like that.  Then I clued in that the “doof doof doof” sensation against my ribs was him booting me with his tiny fetus foot.  No mouse there and sure enough he’s been playing soccer since he was 2. 

People also told me that when he was born and we announced his name people said to them (not me), wow Angus, what a hefty name to give a kid.  Notice how they didn’t tell me directly?  That’s why it’s best to hold off telling people what names you’re considering.  If you do it in advance you’ll always find someone who knew someone with that name in kindergarten who smelled like pee. 

When you tell people the names you’re considering they automatically assume it’s now a committee decision and they’re ready to write up the minutes with their input.  I tell you, avoid it until you name the kid and then you don’t need to hear about it.   They’ll only talk amongst themselves.  Anyways, long story shortish – Angus totally fits his name.  Whew.

And then new baby was on his way and we had to figure out another name.  People asked if we were going to do the Scottish thing again and I said no, the last thing we want are two kids that sound like they make up a bagpipe and fiddle duo.  When I first thought it was a girl I really liked the name Ally and then realized her full name would be Ally MacNeil, nope, not gonna work.  And then I thought about Amos, but Angus and Amos?  It sounds like a vaudeville act. 

Anyways, when I was pregnant I’d be lying on my back in bed amidst 6 or 8 pillows placed strategically for maximum comfort with my book resting on my belly and he’d kick the book.  Not a soft kind of push, but big kicks and lots of them, rollercoastering my book like he was saying MA,  GET THAT BOOK OFF MY ASS!

That was when it occurred to me that this was no soft sweet wallflower kid, you know?  So we named him Leo because he seems to have a bit more going on than the average bear cub. 

And he’s got a big bush of red brown hair.  And he’s got big dark eyes.  Honeybunny says he looks like a baby orangutan.  We call him oranga-baby for short. And I tell you, at 3:00 a.m. when his furry little head is against my shoulder and we’re heading for a feeding, and he’s grunting and head butting me because he’s impatient and hungry and I want to say, “dude!  can I at least sit down first??”  it’s like he’s already grown into his name.  Then he settles in for a feeding and curls his body around my middle like a little warm kitten.