Possibly the most profound and long-lasting of all parenting decisions is one of the first. Namely, what is it we and others are meant to call this new being?
I bring this up because my wife and I are expecting our third child in the next month.
We've already named two kids, and we're not without our ideas, but it's safe to say that we're not exactly sweating the name this time around. As of yet, we don't really have a clear consensus — despite the kids' entreaties to name him either "Baby Shrump," "Fred Baby," or "Diaper."
We'll do what we've done in the past and save ourselves half the battle by using my wife's last name (she kept her name) as the kid's middle name — a nice touch that I'd like to think will give the kids a better sense of both halves of the geneological family.
But still, that first name isn't easy — for us, or for anyone. So herewith, ten critical considerations; guidelines, if you will, for naming a kid:
DO IT RIGHT AWAY
Though we're folks who spent a week naming our first cat (literally calling him by different names to try them out), and two days naming our second cat — I can't conceive of doing the same with an actual child, though we've had friends and family who have. Among other things, it calls additional attention to the name once finally agreed on. "Herman? Herman!? It took you three weeks to name your kid and that is the best you could come up with?"
So do it before you leave the hospital. And for those of you planning to have a baby at home, don't sweat it — your baby will be called Moonbeam. You damn hippies.
NO NAMES THAT CAUSE OTHERS TO QUESTION YOUR ABILITY TO SPELL
Our neighbors have a daughter named Serenna [sic]. They pronounce it "sareena," as one would if it were spelled "the normal way": Serena. They're perfectly nice people. Honest. Good neighbors. But that double "n" makes me wonder if a spelling error occurred somewhere between the thought and the birth certificate paperwork.
NO PUNCTUATION
I'm down, yo, don't get me wrong. But D'Andre? Amar'e? Please. No apostrophes, no hyphens, no semicolons, no periods, no lowercase. And for god's sake, no will.i.am lowercase and periods together! I don't care if you think it's cultural or hip or whatever. Save it for a nickname. No one deserves to be known by the state as something like T-Bone.
NO PET NAMES
Some relatives that shall remain unnamed (wife's side of the family; I'm just saying), have suggested we name the impending boy Puck. "You guys are literary, so you've got the allusion to Shakespeare" (A Midsummer Night's Dream), they say, and you've got the obvious hockey-crazed thing too. It's perfect!"
All true. Except that we're talking about a human being, not a labrador retriever.
Likewise...
NO RAP NAMES
Before you name your baby O-Dog or Crunk or Money, go get yourself a copy of Garage Band or hit a freestyle open mic night. Do whatever it takes to live your own damn pipe dreams instead of pushing them onto your kid.
NO STRIPPER NAMES
You can name a girl Destiny or Crystal or Chyna, but understand full well that they stand a far better chance of ending up as a stripper or a porn star, than, say, a Rachel.
And remember...
YOU AND YOUR CHILD ARE NOT AS UNIQUE AS YOU THINK YOU ARE
We all seem to want to find a name that's somewhat unique. I can understand that. But by doing so, you run a heavy risk of too unique. Too unique is just not good. Too unique is really only for those rich enough to buy either friendship or protection — or those whose father is Frank Zappa. Because kids with names like Dweezil or Apple or Suri or Siri just wind up (rightly) getting the piss taken out of them at school. Every day.
I mean...
REMEMBER: THE KID HAS TO LIVE WITH THIS NAME
Even without getting into Boy Named Sue territory, our names can influence how others see us, how we're treated, and how we feel about ourselves. My older daughter RK has a friend whose older brother is named Happy. We don't think it's his given name, but that's what his parents, teachers, and friends call him. And that, apparently, is what he will be expected to live up to. Happy. Might be fine now, in fifth grade, but in a few years when the teen angst hits hard and he wants nothing more than to sulk and listen to The Smiths?
Which leads us to...
THINK ABOUT IT LIKE A 12-YEAR-OLD
I run every possibility through my mental Rolodex of teasing. I mean, if your last name is Hoffman, you simply don't want to name a boy Jack. Because Jack Hoffman (say it: "jackoff man") is a bit too, well, Mike Hunt. So think about how your proposed name can be twisted by a snot-nosed 12-year-old.
And lastly...
KEEP IT TO YOURSELF
My wife and I refuse to discuss possible names with anyone but each other — a domestic life scar on behalf of friends who 10 years ago allowed to us and another couple that the two finalists for their soon-to-be-girl were Emma and . . . Sarafina. I can't remember if they actually asked what we thought, but — Tony-award-winning musical or not — I do know that I had an opinion on the proposed choices. And my opinion should have had nothing to do with their naming decision.
P.S. Their second daughter was not named Sarafina either. ;-)
There you have it, folks. Procreate away.

Alright. It's festival/backyard barbecue/family reunion season and you will be called upon to rally the troops, young and old. You'll need 45 minutes worth of tunes you can play and sing well. If you're lousy with lyrics, keep a sheaf of cheat sheets in your guitar case. The key is a varied repertoire in your vocal range, with no alternate tunings, and no more than a half-dozen chords.
Bluegrass: You need at least one tune to play with a banjo- or fiddle-toting friend. And if you don't have any friends who tote said instruments, you need to take a hard look at who you're hanging out with. I can't do a lick of real fingerpicking, but I can comp chords, and tunes like Hank Williams' "Jambalaya" or the Stanley Brothers' "Man of Constant Sorrow" work well.
PowerPoint
Rule #2: Avoid landmarks.