Little Bun came home the other day and yelled "Moses R. Bloom, get down here now!" When I asked what he was doing, he said "practicing."
He considers himself the "family hero" for finding a name he thought we could all agree on for our third -- Moses.
"Moses" will not actually be Moses. "Moses" will come with a name already; Moses could be a girl . . . and Moses? Since I'm not Gwyneth Paltrow, Moses seems a bit much. (Not as much, however, as a name I was surprised to learn ranked somewhere in the 900s for popularity -- "Messiah.")
Still, it had occurred to Little Bun that "Moses" is or will be a real person. I thought it had occurred to me before, too, but it hadn't, really, until this afternoon. I was walking down the sidewalk on a beautiful sunny day and it hit me that somewhere in this world there's someone else whose life I'm responsible for stewarding. H*ly Moses.
ETA I just learned that the baby house is called Mussie (Moo-say?) -- Moses.