On my blog, of late, I've been referring to my eldest as The Rock Star. This is because he often does a funny little jig and yelps, "I'm a rock star!" I've since learned that this comes from PBS's Sid the Science Kid.
Matthew has either been called, well, Matthew, mostly. Occasionally I go with The Baby. This is because in real life I call him one of three things.
2. The Baby
The third originated for several reasons. For starters, the kid is a little miniature heifer and feels like a sack of potatoes when he's being carried around for longer than, oh, eleven seconds. I can handle it because I do it all the time. But I kid you not, when people hold him at church they slowly begin hunching over until they're bent completely in half and they are, in fact, dragging Matthew between their legs. Okay, so maybe the part about I kid you not isn't entirely true. But he is dead weight. I promise. Second, on any given day he accomplishes about as much as a potato. And third, he is shaped quite like a potato. It's okay though. I love potatoes.
But see, I know that "Spud" is not the least bit complimentary. I realize it's down right rude to call one of my sons The Rock Star and the other son The Spud. I mean, that's second in horribleness only to The Heir and The Spare and I don't really want Matthew ending up in the tabloids or on a couch some day because I called him Spud on a blog that has 6 readers, even if 5 of them are family members.
So I don't know what to call him here. The Baby will only work for the next few months. Heck, it'll practically be outdated by the time he either is or isn't legally mine forever. Spud...well...I don't know. It makes him smile but there are laws about child abuse. What do you think?