Her Name.

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We don’t really rely on nicknames around here as much as I’ve noticed that some other parents do.

I call her Scarlett Rebecca as often as I think to because honestly, I just love her name so much. I don’t know if it’s really as flawless to everyone else as I think that it is, or if I just can’t help loving it this much because, well… I picked it, and it belongs to her. But even before she made it what it is, I’ve always thought that it was just so rich, so strongly feminine, so fun to say. It’s pretty for a little girl, fun for an adolescent, strong for a teenager, and really… I mean, downright sexy for a woman, don’t you think? It’s not vapid, but it has a timeless quality. I like to think it’s the kind of name that will stand the test of time.

Then again, I guess that’s what we all think when we settle in to name out kids. And there are still plenty of people out there who hate the ones they were saddled with.

It’s always a toss up with these types of things. I have no idea what Scarlett’s true tastes will be. She may grow to adore her name, the same way I’ve always been lucky enough to really enjoy mine. Or she may completely detest it, the way that Mary dislikes the combinations of her first and middle name (-- which, can I just say?- boggles my mind. I think the combination of Mary with Morgan is the most adorable blending of sounds I’ve ever heard. I always tell her I could not have picked a prettier, more suitable name for her myself.) But, it’s all relative. I remember so carefully picking a sailboat theme for Matthew’s first nursery, only for sailboats to wind up being probably the only thing he never took a particular interest in.

In any case, I’ve found more recently, as she grows into her personality that the nicknames are fast invading my every communication with her.

Scarlett Becky.

Scarly Beckerson.

Piece-a-pie.

Bugger-boo.

Boo-butt.

Scar-bar-banana-head.

Scar.

Barla.

Nugget.

Buggy.

Goose.

Cornball.

Nut.

Lovey-bug.

Doodle-butt.

Scooter.

And pipsqueak.

Some of them don’t even make sense. I keep catching myself calling her a nut-ball. I can’t even picture what a nut-ball is. It just sounds like it describes her when she’s walking around here being… you know, a nutball.

Still. When I see pictures like this, where she just shines without even trying, I look at her and I think: Scarlett Rebecca, yeah. That’s her.