Mr Z's name means 'defender of mankind'. We wanted him to be strong and to care for others.
Miss Piggy's means 'Christmas child'. When we arrived to be induced, the hospital was adorned with decorations and she left covered in glitter. Plus... she was kind of ... a 'gift'.
Small Boy was named for someone who encouraged others to love justice, live with kindness and live humbly. We thought that sounded like the sort of person we would be proud to call our son.
So... you'd think I'd actually use these beautiful and carefully chosen names. Evidently not.
They have loads of nicknames, my offspring. Piglet, Miss Piggy and Piggle - all newborns are like squealing little pigs with their soft pink noses snuffling about.
The big one, the pink one and the small one - from when we used to talk in code (such codes have long been abandoned since the big one and the pink one learned to spell).
But most often I refer to them as Piglet (the kindest of the animals in the Hundred Acre Wood), Noodle (I think that one evolved from 'nudist' when she was going through that stage that all two year olds go through), and Boozy (he used to wobble like a little drunk man before he found his balance, poor darlin).
They don't seem to mind.
I might add, my relatives rarely ever call me by name. My grandparents call me petal or flower or blossom, my mum 'Milly' (for Milly Molly Mandy), my sister 'Neen' or 'Neenee' (hence my blog address), my brother has called me all manner of weird names (including 'Hemp' when I was first going through my earth-loving environmental stage) and my hubby has a pet name for me that I later found out is a Sri Lankan name for the boogey man. I've forgiven him!