Tom and I nip to the shops, as ever his blonde curls and angelic face attract an elderly lady who proceeds to coo over him.
‘Treasure this time’ she says to me (they all say that actually) ‘treasure it because it goes so fast!’
‘I know, it does fly. My eldest is eight and it seems only yesterday that he was this age.’ That wonderful age before he learnt to answer back – haha.
‘Oh you have three boys! How wonderful!’
‘And what is this one called?’ she says, stroking his hair.
‘OH! WONDERFUL! How VERY sensible you are!’ she beams at me ‘all these silly Mummies and Daddies today giving their children silly names. Names that people can’t spell or pronounce.’
‘Er yes’ I say, smiling awkwardly.
‘I don’t mean foreign names, just normal names and the parents have messed about with the spelling.’
More smiling and nodding as I think about Ruari and his Irish spelling and Jack but not actually Jack, it’s John after his Grandad but we use the diminutive of Jack to differentiate and it completely confuses everybody.
‘Yes’ I say, ‘we have chosen well with Tom. Well, best be off’ and I make my escape with, i’m sure a black cloud of silly naming hanging over my head.