Naming Rights for Your Kids

Savvy, Mac and I were sitting on the couch, just chilling. Mac was proudly showing off his knowledge of the difference between: Uh-huh & Uh-uh.

“Uh-huh means yes.” He nodded up and down. “Uh-uh means no.” He shoock his head left and right.

“Right mommy? Say it with me.” 

Which is what Mac often asks us to do, to repeat what he’s hoping is right out loud, not believing he’s on the right track until he’s heard us say it.

"Uh-huh. Uh-uh" we said together, making the right head motions for each.

Savvy then said, eyes twinkling,

“That’s what I am going to call my kids. Uh-huh. And Uh-uh.”

She paused, waiting for my reaction.

“That sounds great, Sav” I said, “good idea.”

She asked on:

“That’s ok, right, Mom? I can name my kids whatever, I want, right? Like, there’s no law against what I can or can’t name my kid, right?”

“I don’t think so, Sav, no laws” I replied.

“Yes, because they’re mine. The kids are mine. And it’s my choice, right? So,” she said, eyes shining full of dare, “So, if I have a daughter, I can name her Fuck?”

My game of playing it cool—well, I was losing that game: “What!?”

“I can name her F*ck?” Sav asked again, although this time it was more of a defiant statement.

Me: “Um, F*ck is not a word that you are allowed to use at all, let alone for a name, Sav.” 

And then a bunch of questions came my way and I got lured into the why/why nots of the word Fuck. 

To tackle this properly, I felt I had to lead an age appropriate conversation about love and sex and babies. And about two people and respect, and a beautiful thing and how f*ck was a very mean way to capture something special. 

Sav said:

“Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Not getting it. Please come back and try again when I’m 9.”

Message received. Too much too soon.

The future very proud Grandma of Baby F*ck, signing off.