What’s in a Name?

It is probably a good thing that Michael and I have two boys, because we quickly settled on boy names during each of my pregnancies, but girl names would have been more problematic. I have always liked the name, David, which quite appropriately means "beloved" and I don't mind the nickname, Dave, although we always intended to use his full name. 

To date, Andrew is the only person who has referred to David as Dave, which is just one of a host of nicknames that he has used for his favorite "little guy." I should have been writing them down, because it would seem that Andrew uses a different pet name for David each day. They range from hybrids of his real name, including The Davester and The Davinator, to more descriptive names like The Little Paratrooper, used when David had just scaled the kitchen cabinets to get to the chips, or my least favorite, Midget Man. Let's hope that last one doesn't stick, particularly because David tops the 97^th percentile in height and is projected to be at least 6'4" tall.

David rarely uses his own name and has a great deal of trouble answering the question, "What is your name?" When he does refer to himself, he seldom uses David. Sometimes he will say "Day-me" which I believe is a combination of David and me—at least he has the pronoun correct. Most often, however, he uses the name Ginnie, which has a hard g sound, like the word girl. I cannot possibly imagine where this name came from, but he uses it pretty consistently.

David often just repeats or echoes a phrase back to you, called echolalia in the word of autism. And so, as I tuck David in at night I am sometimes reminded of the old George Burns and Gracie Allen comedy routine where George Burns would close the show by saying, "Say goodnight, Gracie" and she would say "Goodnight, Gracie" except David adds his own little twist. I tell him "Say goodnight, David" and he responds "Say goodnight, Ginnie." Sometimes I feel as if I am living a comedy routine.

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