The naming of cats
“Sammy, what is Jasper?”
“Jasper is a cat.”
“Sammy, what is Ziva?”
“Ziva is a cat.”
“Sammy, what is Sammy?”
“Sammy is a cat.”
We correct him. We repeat our questions. He says: “Sammy is a little boy.”
We’ve long been telling him about his little brother, Baby Danny. It’s not clear what he understands; although, one day, he did greet Karin: “Hi Mommy. Hi Baby.”
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Daniel James was born this afternoon.
“Daniel,” for the OT prophet. I’ve known quite a few Daniels; each, in his own way, has been rather good. Also, “Daniel” is spelled the same in English and in Spanish.
“James,” for the NT epistle writer, and for my brother Stephen James. “Stephen” isn’t spelled the same in English and in Spanish, but “James” is; or, put it this way, there are many Spanish variants of “James” – “Jaime,” “Diego,” “Tiago,” “Santiago,” “Iago” (corruptions of Ya’akov or “Jacob”) … but also there is “James,” i.e. HAH-mess, as in “James Rodríguez” (the footballer). A Latin American name, by way of English.
It counts. It’s passable.
I have photos of Daniel but can’t upload them because the hospital’s Internet signal is weak.
When Samuel was born, I was wracked with dread. This time, the journey has seemed familiar, and I’ve enjoyed some of it. I couldn’t help but grin when Daniel was being wrenched out. Afterward, Karin was very hungry, and she ate a footlong Subway sandwich. Having viewed her exertions – and sensing that much iron had been lost – I ate even more than Karin did, and I opted for the steak rather than the chicken. Daniel also ate and ate. What with his tongue-tie, though, it isn’t clear how much food he’s been swallowing.
We did a video call to introduce the brothers to one another (Samuel has been staying with his abuelos). Samuel was mostly indifferent, except that he wanted to play with my Mom’s phone. Daniel was annoyed to have had his feeding interrupted.
“Jasper is a cat.”
“Sammy, what is Ziva?”
“Ziva is a cat.”
“Sammy, what is Sammy?”
“Sammy is a cat.”
We correct him. We repeat our questions. He says: “Sammy is a little boy.”
We’ve long been telling him about his little brother, Baby Danny. It’s not clear what he understands; although, one day, he did greet Karin: “Hi Mommy. Hi Baby.”
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Daniel James was born this afternoon.
“Daniel,” for the OT prophet. I’ve known quite a few Daniels; each, in his own way, has been rather good. Also, “Daniel” is spelled the same in English and in Spanish.
“James,” for the NT epistle writer, and for my brother Stephen James. “Stephen” isn’t spelled the same in English and in Spanish, but “James” is; or, put it this way, there are many Spanish variants of “James” – “Jaime,” “Diego,” “Tiago,” “Santiago,” “Iago” (corruptions of Ya’akov or “Jacob”) … but also there is “James,” i.e. HAH-mess, as in “James Rodríguez” (the footballer). A Latin American name, by way of English.
It counts. It’s passable.
I have photos of Daniel but can’t upload them because the hospital’s Internet signal is weak.
When Samuel was born, I was wracked with dread. This time, the journey has seemed familiar, and I’ve enjoyed some of it. I couldn’t help but grin when Daniel was being wrenched out. Afterward, Karin was very hungry, and she ate a footlong Subway sandwich. Having viewed her exertions – and sensing that much iron had been lost – I ate even more than Karin did, and I opted for the steak rather than the chicken. Daniel also ate and ate. What with his tongue-tie, though, it isn’t clear how much food he’s been swallowing.
We did a video call to introduce the brothers to one another (Samuel has been staying with his abuelos). Samuel was mostly indifferent, except that he wanted to play with my Mom’s phone. Daniel was annoyed to have had his feeding interrupted.