I was pulling weeds in the front yard when my neighbors walked by, pushing their infant daughter in a baby carriage and walking their big dog Spencer, a friendly Lab mix. I immediately got up and went to say hi to Spencer. “How’s the good boy?” I asked while Spencer wagged his tail so hard it had to have hurt.
My neighbors exchanged a glance. “This is our new baby,” said Monica in a frosty tone. “This is Ellis.”
I glanced into the baby carriage and was not impressed. “Cute kid,” I said and went back to Spencer who was now standing on his hide legs licking my face.
At this point the silence was deafening and both Monica and Ethan were looking at me with tightly compressed lips. Against my will I disengaged myself from Spencer and peered into the baby carriage.
“How’s the pretty girl?” I cooed in a voice that sounded unnatural even to me. “How is Baby Alice today?”
Monica cleared her throat. “Her name is ‘Ellis’,” she said coldly.
I was confused. “Not ‘Alice’?” I asked.
“’Ellis,’” said Ethan and Monica together.
“With an ‘E’,” Ethan added.
I shrugged. “Sorry,” I said . “Ellis/ Alice.” Monica and Ethan said nothing. “Sorry,” I said again. “Honest mistake.”
Ethan decided to be magnanimous. “It happens all the time,” he said soothingly.
I thought for a minute. “Isn’t ‘Ellis’ a boy’s name?” I said unwisely and Monica’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Neither she nor Ethan said a word.
“She should probably just get used to answering to ‘Alice’,” I said carelessly and Monica , glaring, walked off taking Alice/Ellis with her. I gave Spencer a final hug before he walked off with Ethan. “Stupid name for a baby girl,” I whispered to Spencer and of course he agreed.
As I went back to my weeding I thought that Ellis better develop a thick skin very fast otherwise being called “Alice” was going to be a thorn in her side for the next 80 years or so. And I remembered a college friend, “Aubrey” who would become infuriated if anyone called her “Audrey.” Or my friend Maria who would simply walk away mid-sentence if someone called her “Marie.”
Not long after this I was at a trade show in Detroit and ran into an acquaintance. Dan is in his mid-50’s and I had heard through the grapevine that he had recently remarried a much younger woman. “Can you believe I just had another kid?” he asked. “I’ve got grandkids who are older than this baby. He dug out his smart phone and pulled up a picture. “This is Olvin,” he said.
“Alvin?” I asked, thinking of the singing chipmunk. “Cute kid,” I lied.
“His name is ‘Olvin’,” said Dan, resigned. “Not ‘Alvin.’ Not ‘Ivan.’ It’s ‘Olvin.’ With an ‘O’.” He sighed. “I told Veronica this would happen,” he said parenthetically.
I did not know what to say. “Cute kid,” I said again.
“My other kids were cuter,” said Dan as he headed for the bar.
A couple of minutes later I ran into another client; I could never remember if her name was “Melissa” or “Alyssa” so I usually called her nothing.
“Hey, Lady,” I said. “What’s new?”
“I just had twins!” she said, digging out her out her smart phone. “This is Maddie and this is Aiden.”
I was befuddled because I was not sure if Melissa/Alyssa was the mother of Maddie and Zayden or Mattie and Aiden. “Cute kids,” I said, avoiding that land mine.
“Thanks,” she said and we chatted about the rigors of having twins while working full time.
“And how about you?” said Melissa/Alyssa “How is your wonderful dog Ellie doing?”
“Her name is ‘Ali,” I corrected her.