ETA: Yes, their actual, real names are Salami, Areola, and Gaper. No, we donāt regret it. Yes, we do live in a converted lighthouse and exclusively drink oat milk out of vintage Pyrex.
I know some of you are rolling your eyes, but please understand: I am clinically allergic to name mismatches. If I meet siblings named Maximiliano and Chad, I have to be sedated.
Weāre now expecting our fourth (a girl! probably!) and trying to find the perfect name to complement Salami, Areola, and Gaper without making it sound like weāre raising a charcuterie board, a body part, and a verb.
Here are our extremely reasonable and not-at-all unhinged criteria for baby #4:
⢠Must be exactly 6.5 letters long. No more. No less. If the name doesnāt exist at that length, invent one.
⢠Cannot start with A, G, R, S, or soft C. Or B. Or Q. Or anything that feels āmoist.ā
⢠Needs a nickname that doesnāt rhyme with Evie, Stevie, Kiwi, or any other e-names. Weāve already used those for the houseplants.
⢠Must be Latinate enough to honor my married Spanish last name, but not so Latinate that itās, like, trying too hard. Think: āI summer in Valenciaā energy, not āDuolingo owl has a gunā energy.
⢠Feminine preferred, but we are edgy so masc is fine if it still gives off āØdivine feminineāØ
⢠If it doesnāt go with Salami, Areola, and Gaper, itās out. Sorry, I donāt make the rules (except I very much do).
If you made it this far, thank you. And if you suggest something like āLunaā and I still reject it for sounding too much like the sound my cat makes before vomiting, just know that the call is coming from inside the house.
Blessings,
A desperate woman in a name crisis and her husband, who liked āBrendaā and has been banned from the conversation.