like moo, and junk

When Rachel and Dave told us that we were going to be grandparents I asked-not unreasonably I thought!-if I could name the baby. The parents to be  promptly nixed that idea. That was a shame, because I had thought up some really nifty names.

Undeterred, I decided to call the baby Twinklestar Roastbeef Rarick, Twink for short. I figured it was gender neutral and kind of catchy. I referred to the baby as “Twink” until we found out that it was a she, then I referred to her as Twink.

I called the baby Twink all through Rachel’s pregnancy, even though Rachel and Dave had shared with us the lovely name they had chosen for their daughter. Naming a baby in-utero is an act of bold insouciance that is the purview of all parents-to-be. As a first time grandparent, I was not actively involved in the whole baby process, and my job was to fret. I’m old enough to know that the journey from ethereal to earthbound sometimes makes an unexpected U-turn, and I couldn’t think of the baby by her given name until I had actually held her . Which I did yesterday. And holding that magical compact heft, a healthy 8 pound baby, Twink faded away and I said “welcome to the world!!” to Evelyn Jane Rarick.

Evelyn Jane Rarick

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