vid?” I regarded at him with thinly-disguised disdain. “I thought we could pick something just a tad more, um, interesting,” I finally offered.

I was thinking of my friend Paula, who n

Some girls have favorite baby names picked out before they fawn over their first crush. The chosen names are bestowed upon favorite dolls or stuffed animals until finally being bestowed, just as decisively, on their own children. I wasn’t one of these girls.

I imagined possible baby names as much as the next person, I suppose, but the names always changed. One year I’d want the name of the character in a favorite book, and the next year I’d want the name of a newly-discovered ancestor. So when I eventually married and got pregnant, I didn’t have a lot of solid ideas to bring to the table. My husband, Andy, didn’t either, though his one requirement seemed to be that the name be as traditional as possible. “How about Michael?” he suggested, “Or David?” I regarded at him with thinly-disguised disdain. “I thought we could pick something just a tad more, um, interesting,” I finally offered.

I was thinking of my friend Paula, who na

t as decisively, on their own children. I wasn’t one of these girls.

I imagined possible baby names as much as the next person, I suppose, but the names always changed. One year I’d want the name of the character in a favorite book, and the next year I’d want the name of a newly-discovered ancestor. So when I eventually married and got pregnant, I didn’t have a lot of solid ideas to bring to the table. My husband, Andy, didn’t either, though his one requirement seemed to be that the name be as traditional as possible. “How about Michael?” he suggested, “Or David?” I regarded at him with thinly-disguised disdain. “I thought we could pick something just a tad more, um, interesting,” I finally offered.

I was thinking of my friend Paula, who n

nt the name of the character in a favorite book, and the next year I’d want the name of a newly-discovered ancestor. So when I eventually married and got pregnant, I didn’t have a lot of solid ideas to bring to the table. My husband, Andy, didn’t either, though his one requirement seemed to be that the name be as traditional as possible. “How about Michael?” he suggested, “Or David?” I regarded at him with thinly-disguised disdain. “I thought we could pick something just a tad more, um, interesting,” I finally offered.

I was thinking of my friend Paula, who n

d ideas to bring to the table. My husband, Andy, didn’t either, though his one requirement seemed to be that the name be as traditional as possible. “How about Michael?” he suggested, “Or David?” I regarded at him with thinly-disguised disdain. “I thought we could pick something just a tad more, um, interesting,” I finally offered.

I was thinking of my friend Paula, who n

vid?” I regarded at him with thinly-disguised disdain. “I thought we could pick something just a tad more, um, interesting,” I finally offered.

I was thinking of my friend Paula, who named her son American Xavier. And boy did she catch hell for it. He’ll be the butt of all the playground jokes, people prophesied. She’d respond that all kids get made fun of for something or other. If it’s not your name, it’s that you wear glasses or have bad teeth. And she turned out to be right. Now ten years old, American is never mocked for his name. He’s a cool kid in a small school among others with similarly non-traditional names, so his name doesn’t even really stand out.

I knew my husband would never go for something as interesting as American, though I did love the name India Rose for a little girl. I even had visions of our little India someday marrying American, thus forming an American-India union. But Andy put his foot d