My ten year old daughter told her pesky, impish seven year old brother that she intends to have four children one day: [name_m]Jonathan[/name_m], [name_m]Jacob[/name_m], [name_f]Sarah[/name_f], and [name_f]Emma[/name_f]. I spent a moment pondering if the adventurously-named children of today are going to swing hard the other direction with their own kids or if my daughter is just incredibly traditional. Then my son cast a shy look my direction:
“Girls is easy to name. If my wife has a baby with blond hair and pink cheeks we’s naming her [name_f]Rose[/name_f].”
I admit to swooning just a bit, imaging my little boy, with his dirt-streaked nose and skinned knees, presenting me with my grandbaby, [name_f]Rose[/name_f]. I’d have expected him to gravitate towards [name_u]Wonder[/name_u] Woman or Tooty.