I’m going to name my children.
Obviously, they haven’t gone through life nameless, but they have on this blog. That’s because I’m skeeved about children and Internet safety. Heck, I’m not even sure I’ve put my own name on here.
When our first child was born in 2003, my Lovely Bride found “Bringing Up Ben and Birdy” on babycenter.com. Each week for four years, author Catherine Newman wrote about barf and poop, funny things her two kids said and the daily life of being a mom and wife. I’d be satisfied if I were only half as entertaining as she was.
She named her children in her column week in and week out, and that’s part of why I cared. They were real people.
I started this blog without my children’s names because I was concerned about weirdos finding them. But referring to them as “my first-grader” or “my 4-year-old daughter” just isn’t cutting it. How can I expect a reader to care about someone without a name? I thought about using fake names, but am I going to live in fear?
So here we are: my son, a 6-year-old first-grader, is Eddie. His little sister, a 4-year-old preschooler, is Carla.
Now was that so hard?