“Hey, Ger, what kind of color is cyan? Is it like a light blue?”
“Yeah. …Cyan. Isn’t that pretty?”
“Meh. If you like light blue, I guess.
“No, I mean as a name.”
“For a color?”
“No, dork, for the baby.”
“Ugh. No, are you kidding? It’s awful.”
“I think it’s kind of nice. Cyan.”
“Why don’t we just name her ‘Burnt Umber’ or ‘Flesh’ if we’re picking names from a crayon box?”
“Jamie…”
“No. I’m exercising my veto option on Baby Cyan.”
“Cyan…”
“Stop saying ‘Cyan!'”
Friends of ours were thinking of the name Nuno if they had a boy. Yes they were serious.
I still like it. It’s kinda like Cheyanne except Cyan. I would spell it Cyanne.
I remember picking baby names with great fondness. It’s almost worth having another just to go through the exercise again…
I played a game where I would go through the alphabet and try and think of the worst names for each letter and get Marla’s reaction. My hope was that by exposing her to the WORST my “only bad” names wouldn’t look so terrible. (I’m sure Jamie can tell us the official psychology term for that.)
“How about Rumplestiltskin?”
“Uh, no.”
“What about Socrates?”
*rolls eyes*
“How about Trigger?”
“Well, I guess that one isn’t so bad…”
Heh. It’s called “the contrast effect.” Related to the “anchoring effect” many stores use by getting you to compare inflated regular prices with sale prices.
You gotta watch, that, though; it can backfire. I jokingly started naming off character names from the Soul Calibur games (Baby Astaroth, anyone?), but Ger actually glommed onto “Cassandra” and now it’s at the top of her short list!
Cassandra was hot! Oh, wait…