WHOSIT,...and ...why?

Um, so we have a few names runnin' around here that none of you have heard of, and here's the scoop:

For reasons not fully explained our stake president has asked us to be hyper-vigilant about personal safety. Hyper-vigilant means measures such as No Unsupervised Persons May Be in the Halls at Church (yes, even my Laurel class needs me to walk them to the bathroom during YW) and heightened measures of internet safety. In his words regarding the internet, "What would Captain Moroni say about careless use of the internet? He'd say 'Why would I build a wall around my fortifications and then knock a tunnel in it?'" He specifically asked us to avoid sharing too much personal information with who-knows-whom via postings of this nature.

So the point of all this is to let you know that we'll be using the monikers listed under our pictures. The children were pretty excited when we gave them the chance to name themselves for our blog, except those too young to care.

Little Birdman's name comes from the song sung at my younger brother's Boy Scout Camp, "Up in the air, Junior Birdman; Up in the air upside down...." Harvey and I are hoping Junior will take the hint and be upside down in Delivery Position when needed, since we've had some trouble with others from the same mold doing just that.

Little one-year-old answers to whatever we call her, especially if we're offering food, so we just named her ourselves. You can sing the related Christmas carol if it'll help you remember.

Little three-year-old is in the habit of stringing senseless syllables together and asking us what they mean, so she made up Niccus by herself. Y'all better come up with some idea of what it means, just in case she ever asks YOU! Warning, though, she is just as likely to insist that she's called SomeOtherRandomStringofSyllables, and look at you as if you're stark raving mad if you ask about Niccus.

Little four-(almost-five)-year-old giggled like crazy when she insisted she was Snoozer. The way she says it has about 250% of the buzzing sound of anyone else's pronunciation.

Little six-year-old loves the Arthur books by Marc Brown. She says D.W. doesn't stand for anything. It's just a name.

Not-so-little eight-year-old wanted to be Harvey Jr. after finding out that Daddy-man was to be Harvey.

Ten-year-old was disappointed briefly when he found out we would veto their use of their GURPS character names, so he chose a beloved name from another fantasy world he enjoys. (GURPS is a role-playing-game system that we use in a late-night gaming session as a family every two weeks. Children who fulfill enough of their school and home responsibilities get to attend.)

Eleven-year-old decided that LaundryMan was just his style. (He is in charge of several loads of laundry per week, since graduating from dish duty this past year.) Move over, Superman, because our groaning hampers need de-stinkification. Who can save us? It's LaundryMan!

Harvey and I (Pooka) really like the play(movie) Harvey, about a mythical Pooka who causes all sorts of frenetic fun. Pooka is also perfect for me because I sometimes take my dark-horned-horsey shape and gallop off over the Celtic moorlands when things get rather too crazy around here. Well, maybe I only imagine I could.

As strange as all these names may seem, I as The Mother Figure see intriguing personality variables demonstrating themselves around here. There are those to whom names are just strings of cute sounds, or a signal to get attention. There are those who like names that bring fantasy closer, and those who identify more with ties of kinship, or with one's occupation. See?

So we're here, just our legal names are left behind. Unless we decide we like these so much that we pay the filing fees and change 'em permanently... Heh, heh.