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Since we’re having a baby, HW and I get a lot of people asking us “Hey, have you picked a name?  What is it?”  To which we have to reply, “Yes, we’ve picked a name, and no, we’re not sharing it.”

(Sarah is getting extra saucy about it; someone apparently asked her, “Have you picked any names for the baby?” and she replied “Yes, the last one.”)

In the spirit of sharing, here is a list of names for our daughter that we will not be using:

• Sophia – One of my favorite names.  Sadly, it is also one of America’s current favorite names; it’s more popular right now than “Madeleine,” another name I’m fond that is highly ranked at babynames.com. (Some people spell it Madelynn; those people have a special place in hell reserved for them.)
• Sadie – Can’t not think of the Maharishi.
• Millicent – Sadly, Sarah thinks this name is dorky. I love it so much I’d give it to two daughters and have to number them like George Foreman did his sons.


• Charlotte – Sarah pushed for this one, but the thought of having two kids named “Charles” and “Charlotte” made me cough stomach acid.


• Victoria – Another favorite of mine that’s sadly in use by a close friend’s daughter. Things would just get confusing.


• Brooklyn – I would pour boiling mercury into my empty eye sockets first. Also: why “Brooklyn?” Why not “Staten Island” or “The Bronx?”


• Clara – Another personal favorite that’s kind of on an uptick. Unacceptable.


• Deborah – I like the name, but not the diminutive form.
• MacKenzie – One of a father’s primary tasks, as we all know, is “keep her off the pole.” (Stripper pole. Keep up, America.) Not using a name like “MacKenzie” reduces her pole-riding odds from 90% to about 8%. See also: Madison.

In the interest of full disclosure: the above may or may not be true.

I’m not really a poetry guy; I’d much prefer listening to one set to music. (And if it hasn’t been set to music by anyone, it’s probably not very good.) Still, this poem, by Robert Frost, I find very appealing, particularly as Spring turns to May:

I’m going out to clean the pasture spring;
I’ll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I sha’n’t be gone long. You come too.

I’m going out to fetch the little calf
That’s standing by the mother. It’s so young,
It totters when she licks it with her tongue.
I sha’n’t be gone long. You come too.

(It has, of course, been set to music, most famously by Randall Thompson.)