The problems are starting

Naming a child is a big responsibility. One not to be taken lightly. One not to be squandered. After all, the name you bestow will be with the child FOREVER. It will make or break the kid. This is the pressure I felt before our first was born. Naming my child seemed a bigger responsibility than actually caring for him.

We named our child London. I'm not sure if we've scarred him or given him the ultra coolest name ever (in my heart I know it's the latter). But the problems set in pretty quick. The first time we took him to his now pediatrician he was 6 months old. The first thing we heard was "I see London, I see France" from the RECEPTIONIST (not even a snotty nosed little punk). Like I didn't expect THAT to happen to him throughout his entire life. But the doctor's office? He's not safe anywhere.

And now, the real confusion for my poor son sets in. A while back I was singing to the kids during dinner (it seems to help Adelaide eat better and London is to the age now that he actually will sing along, it's dang cute) and I started singing "London Bridge is falling down". London looked at me and said "Mama, my bridge fall down?". He was seriously concerned (not the fact that he owned a bridge and owning bridges can get very expensive, but that it was falling down). As I continued with the song he continued with "Mama, my bridge no fall down". On rare occasions when the city of London is mentioned on TV you can see he gets a little confused as to why the strangers on the bright shiny box are talking about him. (I guess it doesn't help that in those instances we tell him "London, they know your name! They know who you are!"). I know. We're not helping.

I know we have doomed our kid to hearing the famed "I see London, I see France" taunt for years to come. But we'll teach him before those snotty nosed little punks can finish that sentence to pull down their pants and finish it for them.