The great name debate

Already the great name debate has begun. This, after some deliberation about finding out whether or not Little Green will be in possession of an all-important "little winkie". Some parents-to-be specifically request that their baby's gender be kept from them at scan time, thereby saving an element of surprise for the birthing suite. Personally, I've come to the conclusion that I am not a fan of surprises - or not surprises on this kind of scale at least - surprise chocolates, surprise roses I can deal with, no problemo. To be honest, at this point surprise would consist of being handed a baby with ten fingers and ten toes, devoid of any clandestine numbers tattooed on its teensy-weensy scalp. At this point I am acquiescent to my role as mere vessel, as "hostess with the mostess", being gatecrashed and trashed from the inside, used and abused by a grape-sized being.

Focusing on something as inane as names at this early stage helps preserve my sanity if nothing else. But I got off track there. Aside from the obvious practicalities of pink vs blue, knowing your baby's gender early on is said to allow you to bond with the little critter, to visualise its (human) face and (human) features. As long as it's healthy...

Due to Mr Green's lineage, we were tossing around Irish names. Well, the pronounceable, spellable ones at least, which narrows the list considerably. So far there is little consensus. My Jake or Jacob was swiftly poo-pooed. We sort of agree on Aidan but Jack is always a lad so we might give that a miss. Girls' names, though, draw a blank. There is the option of honouring either great granny - Una or Aledra, respectively - but the main thing is not to cripple your child with a name so unusual they limp around with it for the rest of their days, bitter and shamed to the core. After all, it's all about giving them the best possible start in life, isn't it?

If all else fails, there's always deed poll. As long as he's not called Damian...