Older Oldest Younger Youngest

What shall we call the children?

I've been pondering this, discussing it with friends.  I find it just a bit difficult to respect some of the code names that folks give their offspring on their blogs.  Names like "Sugar Plum," for instance.  Or "Doodlebug."  (With sincere apologies to anyone whose children are called either of those.)  I mentioned this my friend, Michael, my dilemma, and he said, "And no, Doodlebug. Hm. No. I respect the IDEA of code names."  As do I.  The idea.  (I believe we both share an apprehension of how we might appear in our own children's published writing — walking a mile, shoes, all that.)  But if it took me five years to come up with a name for the blog itself, by the time I come up with code names for the boys, hell, they'll have children of their own.  Michael and I agreed that some snark would be in order.  But not enough to drive the children to drink or bankrupt them with therapy needs later in life.

My mother recently asked whether my older son had decided on a major yet.  "He’s still planning on being a singing economist or some such?"  The idea of calling him The Singing Economist just cracks me up.  Then younger son could be Or Some Such.  But not only would that be so un-funny to people who do not know us, it is just too long to type.  And probably does not meet the no-therapy criteria.

Now, when pondering code names, the first thing that popped into my wee head was an  incident that occurred when the boys were about four and nine.  I was talking with my older son in the kitchen, and while I don't recall what we were discussing, it must have been something he was fretting about, because I do remember that I finished the conversation with a comforting, "It will be all right, Dear One."

His brother came tearing into the kitchen and roared:

"Hey.  HEY! He's not your Dear One! I AM!"

Then he heaved a sigh, and in a quieter, slightly exasperated this-is-so-obvious tone, "He's your Dear Two!" Then he left. Mission accomplished.

But Dear One and Dear Two sound too much like something from Dr. Seuss, and while I do love rhymes, and even the mention of Seuss starts up a whole rhythm section a-patttering in my second thoughts, those illustrations just seriously wigged me out as a child.  No.  Dear One and Dear Two simply will not do. 

You see?  Dilemma, people.

In fact, I've been so preoccupied with avoiding their names altogether that in my first posts, I made what my friend Lawrence graciously called an "uncharacteristic grammatical aberration."  He asked:

I'm puzzled...you have referred to your youngest and oldest: from this I surmise you have more than two progeny. Is there a third child in this equation whose existence you have kept hidden from us all these years. Are you engaged in some kind of Gothic drama or an Austenesque intrigue?

If only my life were so exciting!  Ha!

To review: "oldest" and "youngest" are superlative adjectives used to describe the most-whatever of many, and "younger" and "older" are comparative adjectives, used to compare only two things. 

Of course you knew that!  I did, too!  Really!

Names are important.  (Snark, too, we could argue.)  Just before he left for Thailand, my older son told me about some classmates, new students in choir, who used his special nickname, the one given to him by the inner circle, as it were.  And it was uncomfortable for him.  Only three people in this wide world are allowed to call me Coley, and only one, Nick.  And that is how it ever shall be.  So I get that, the discomfort. 

I think what disturbs me about some of the blogosphere code names for children is that they seem too precious.  We all adore our children.  But for me to adore someone else's child, I need some room to get in there, to see that child for who she is.  Too precious doesn't leave room.  Or the code name might describe an attribute that the child may have, but those names tell more than they show.  Names like "The Clown" (or whatever) give the secret away.  And, we all change, darn it.  So why assign an identity like that?  Singing Economist may not fit next year.  Students change their majors!  Children grow up!  I  guess I know that my boys will play a role in whatever stories I share here, and I naturally want their integrity and authenticity to be protected. 

I keep turning it over in my mind.  

"Do you think it might be possible that you're over-thinking this, Nicole?"

"Yes.  But that's what I do!"

 

Finally, it has occurred to me that I could just ask the boys what their preference is, code names or name-names.  And in the meantime, I will count on Lawrence for catching any egregious grammatical errors.