No Permission Needed

People ask to hold my baby

People ask to rock him

People ask to touch my baby

But no one asks to kiss him.

People ask to tend my baby

People ask to sooth him

People even ask to change my baby

But no on ever asks to kiss him.

No one ever asks, but I know they all do--

I see them kiss his head, his cheeks, his neck;

It is possible to hold a smiling baby

and not sneak a peck?

I know that when they hold my baby,

And are lost in baby rapture,

They're remembering long-ago-babies

And memories they long to capture.

So no one stops to ask me

or thinks I'd make a fuss

for kissing there's no permission needed--

little babies belong to all of us.

This is what it is like to be Danny Dyreng

Oh No!

Yesterday we took Danny to the doctor for his first check up. Scott and Naomi and I were waiting in the waiting room when the nurse came in and said, "Danielle?"

Scott and I looked at each other in horror. We hadn't thought of this.

Before I could remember to temper my voice I said a little too sharply, "His name is DAN-iel."

For the rest of the day Scott and I worried about this. We spent nine months searching for a name; a name that would be easy to pronouce, a name that sounded good with Dyreng, a name that wouldn't get him made fun of at recess, only to find out he is going to be mistaken for a GIRL for the rest of his life!

Something had to be done.

So I called Dan Mudrick, a guy in our ward, and asked if he had had any problems with this. He laughed and said that the only people who called him "Danielle" were people who spoke French. He said, "The problem isn't the name, it is the nurse."

Well, that made us feel better.

Scott also told this experience to one of his co workers who lives in Boston and she emailed him back and said,"It is a well known fact that southerners can't read."

So his name will stay the way it is.

For now.