The key to raising a child has nothing to do with the right diet, getting a good nights sleep, comforting music playing at the right time or even picking the right partner to breed with. No, the key to raising a child is choosing the right name.
When our first son was born my first wife and I agreed we would name him Jupiter. Let me set the record straight, I agreed we would name him Jupiter, my first wife was passed out after being in labor for three days straight and receiving no less than 17 epidurals. Her parents had flown in for the birth and when the beautiful and perfect Jupiter was wheeled into the viewing room I walked out and greeted my mother in law and she asked me excitedly if we had selected a name for her new grandson and I told her we had agreed on Jupiter, but I think she caught the unease in my voice because she pounced.
“Oh don’t be silly, what is his name?”
I paused. I thought his name really would be Jupiter, but we had yet to officially put his name on anything and right there in that moment she had used some super power that only a mother in law possesses and the name would never again be Jupiter.
She began, “imagine his childhood, children would rhyme stupider with Jupiter and he would return home from school crying.”
Yes, I thought, you have already won the argument.
“I think we are going to go with Baby Jesus.” I told her, with a newfound strength of conviction. I was not looking for a fight, I just had this image in my head that at some point I would be flustered by some dumb thing my son would be doing in the back seat of a car at some point 10 years in the future and I would turn to him and in a tone of total contempt, I would just slowly say, “J-e-s-u-s, what is wrong with you?”
“Are you just going to play games? What is his name?”
Again with the Mother in law mind game jujitsu. Her own daughter passed out in the maternity ward and I am pressing for a proper name with a woman who seemingly had my tiny little brain wrapped around her wrinkled, arthritic finger. I looked over at her husband, who looked at me and shrugged, he knew what it must be like to have this woman in complete control.
“I think we will stick with a traditional name, Mason Pomagranite.”
I walked back to the maternity ward before she could change my mind. My wife was coming out of her birthing coma and a nurse had handed her Jupiter, Jesus or Mason. We ended up going with a completely different name, one her mother approved of and one I kind of ended up liking, but the lesson I took away from the entire negotiation was how important the choice of a name really is.
The joy of having numerous children is the ability to test names and personalities associated with certain names. My daughter Edsel is boring and not a lot of fun. My son Bozo is hysterical. Names are important.
Something we never saw coming was the profitability of naming rights.
That part is true. If you want to make some quick cash and you are going to have 17 children, feel free to sell off some of the naming rights to some of your offspring. When baby Nike was born people were appalled, but I had 20 grand in my pocket. When slow and flabby Microsoft started to walk, People Magazine had him on the cover and I had stock options to cash in. Of course, there is always a downside. First rule of selling naming rights? Always get paid up front. I learned this the hard way with sweet little baby Enron.
My fifth and sixth sons are both named Jupiter, and to be honest one is actually stupider than the other, which means that Mother in Law number one was actually right. Jupiter is stupider.
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