We still don’t have a name for the little pickle.
All throughout this pregnancy, Dave has made suggestions. A few of them have been good. Most of them, however, have made me stop and ask “are you serious or are you joking?” Sometimes I really can’t tell.
Here are some of the names he’s suggested:
Other ones he has suggested, names that aren’t necessarily awful (at least they’re names people might actually call their kids), but names I don’t particularly care for:
I shouldn’t be surprised; after all, this is the same guy who begged my sister to name her boys either Hank, Roy or Don. Her last name is Williams. He thought he was funny; she didn’t.
After posting on Facebook that my dear husband was about to lose both his text messaging AND his baby-naming privileges,Â our friends (mostly male, are you surprised?) were inspired to get in on the obnoxious baby name action:
It’s been suggested that I just go along with him for now, and tell him what I want baby’s name to be when I’m in labor. After all, how can he argue with me at that point? And after his kidney stone experience, I’m pretty sure I’ll get whatever I want during labor.