what's in a name

My grandchildren were over a few days ago and as usual, 4 1/2 year-old Dallin picked out a stuffed animal to call his own for the day. He chose Hannah’s small brown German shepherd dog that he promptly named “Furry Balls.” That name drew a lot of snickers until his dad suggested an even better name, “Furball.” It took me back to when Dallin’s dad was his age and named two of his stuffed friends “Cup” and “Fart”; he just liked the sound of those words. We’ve had lots of nicknames over the years; my brother George is still called “Doughy” or “Dough-boy” because that’s what I called him as a toddler. My brother Kirby is “Cubby”. I remember someone asking Eli what his middle name is and he said, “Bean,” because we called him “Elimabean” so much. Grand-daughter Avey is called “Aviator” by her uncle Nate, and we all find ourselves calling our cat, “Missy”, “Mithy” because of Avey’s lisp. It was a bittersweet moment when Dallin learned to say my name, I enjoyed his sweet voice calling me “Nana Lolla”, and although sometimes I wonder if Mia will ever stop calling me “Nana Barra,” I suppose that will be a bittersweet moment, too. They say that the sweetest sound is the sound of one’s own name. When spoken in tenderness and love, any name can be a term of endearment!