I spent the better part of a week doing my best to spoil that little bundle of love rotten.
And trying to come up with a nickname.
I am the queen of nicknames. Everyone in my life has nickname(s). There is no way I was leaving without giving that little monkey a nickname. But it's tricky when they're so little. It's not like they've got much personality to work with. I mean, it's not like his nickname could be "blob." Unless I could convince my sister to change his name to Bob. Bob the blob could kinda work.
When my visit concluded I only had three potential nicknames:
Hambone: You know, he kind of reminds me of a little Easter ham when he's all curled up. But then, remember that show Growing Pains? And that kid they called "Boner..."
Not good. I think anything with "bone" in it will have to be excluded on principle. Can you imagine if this sweet child became Boner 2.0?! My goal is to welcome the little man into the family with a nickname - not to get myself excommunicated.
Hamlet/hamlette: This one picks up on the whole ham-vibe nicely, plus makes him look scholarly by throwing in the reference to Shakespeare, but his parents didn't really seem to be loving it. That may or may not be a problem. Once I've birthed a nickname they tend to stick around. Regardless of whether the recipient appreciates it.
Spongebob Wetpants: His diaper feels like a bloated sponge when it needs changing. Get it? Spongebob... Wetpants... You aren't laughing, are you? I didn't think so. My kids thought is was H-I-L-A-R-I-O-U-S. They've clearly got my DNA.
This is the face my little buddy made when he heard the nicknames:
So I'm the rubber, and you're the glue.
It bounces off me, and sticks to you.