The Hobbit vs The World: And These People Are Allowed to be Parents?

Good Evening Humble Readers...

Maybe I'm being overly sensitive here, but...

I was minding my own business. At work, doing the bookselling thing. I catch a glimpse of the headline on the local newspaper sitting on the desk in our office... "Name My Baby!"

The story, on the front page, is about a woman in a neighbouring community who is 23, 28 weeks pregnant with her second son, and is just absolutely flummoxed on what to name her newest little one. Apparently she and her partner chose the 'perfect name' when they named their first son, and now they just can't come up with anything else.

In an effort for their child to not be nameless at birth, she has instituted a local contest. She even indicated that doesn't want the name to end in particular letters, presumably because they wouldn't work with her last name.

Honestly, I stopped reading at that point. I didn't read about what her grand prize would be or when her deadline for submissions would be. I was just disgusted.

What the story and her contest say to me, admittedly a very biased infertile, is that she cares so little about the child she's carrying that she can't be bothered to come up with a name for him.

If she wants names, I've got names. Names that I have carried in my heart for years. Names that I still cling to as beacons of hope. I can also give her the names of numerous babies, longed for and loved and cherished... babies that my bloggy friends never got to hold that have names.

The least a mother can do is put some thought into naming her child, and not make it a publicity stunt.

I would like, 12 years from now, to be a fly on the wall when she has that conversation with her son... "no, I didn't name you. We drew your name out of a draw box. Your brother's name was perfect, so we didn't even try."

Ok, rant over.