My children have an ailment that they inherited from my beloved in-laws. This condition, which shall henceforth be called Descriptive Naming Syndrome (DNS for short) forces the creativity center of their brain to freeze up whenever they are in a position to name a stuffed animal or toy. I cannot relate to DNS because I was the queen of thoughtful names as a child. My cat had kittens once when I
was 10 or 11 and I carefully studied each of the kitten's behavior to come up with the perfect name. There was Balboa the fighter, Hanz and Franz, the twin chocolate colored kittens, Butch, the big, fat tabby and Nanook the calico (named after the dog in the movie, The Lost Boys because of my mad crush on Corey Haim). I did not take naming animals, even the stuffed variety, lightly. I resented Xavier Roberts for pre-naming Cabbage Patch Kids and took it upon myself to make up nicknames for each of mine, refusing to give credence to the ones on the birth certificates. Yeah, I was a rebel.
My kids, not so much. Each of them received a Webkinz in their Easter Baskets and their names are simple descriptions of what the animal is. My son, who received a reindeer (thank you clearance aisle!) named it, "Deer," even after my repeated attempts to make descriptive, yet creative suggestions.
How about Rainy? It tells everyone that it's a reindeer but still makes a good name.
What about Dasher or Dancer? Prancer or Vixen?
My suggestions fell on deaf ears and the poor animal was dubbed, "Deer" officially by the resident Webkinz adoption agent. My son's two other Webkinz are Puppy and Kitty, respectively. Try to guess which is which. Just try!
My daughter received an adorable little white terrier in a Webkinz purse (thank you consignment sale! What can I say, I'm an Easter bargain hunter!). After careful consideration, she named her Puppy Girl. I made some desperate pleas in the form of upbeat suggestions:
How about Fluffy?
What about Pinky? Cutie Pie? Cinderella? Tinkerbell?
She didn't fall for my tricks and her dog was aptly named, Puppy Girl, birth certificate and all.
My husband finds this behavior perfectly acceptable. Growing up, his pets had such fantastically creative names as Black Cat, White Cat, Brown Dog,
Spotted Dog and my perennial favorites, Dog and Cat. Come on Hales! Throw a Mama a bone, no pun intended. And stop passing on the DNS gene!