Before we were even expecting, it became a favorite family game: shouting out names.
It would start with a serious consideration — a name we heard at school pick-up, or in a TV show, or a rediscovered cherished storybook character. From there, a back and forth of name and nickname derivatives, everyone taking a turn to try to beat out the latest top contender.
My stepdaughter was a natural pro-player, always in sync with the naming tastes of her father.
Soon the serious names would give way to the silly ones. Pizza pie Chaloeicheep. Flashlight Chaloeicheep. Dick’s Sporting Goods Chaloeicheep.
Sometimes, we’d have to dole out party fouls to whoever too quickly shot down someone else’s personal favorite in the moment.
And my husband and I would always have to vow we wouldn’t give any future children a “cooler” name than A’s…like Fox. That would be a devastating blow to our resident Fennec-enthusiast.
During these games, the possibilities felt endless.
And I know somewhere out there, the spirit of Bat Chaloeicheep is flitting around, a personal favorite of mine that alas, will never be used.