You know those parents who tell you the name of their child and you think to yourself, "Really? Your last name is Grason. And you're naming your child Mason? Mason Grason? Sadistic creeps." and you judge them? I am that parent. And I now understand them.
Listen. Here's the deal. How do you know that Mrs. Grason (who's last name used to be Smith which doesn't rhyme with Mason at all) didn't fall head-over-heels in love with the name Mason when she was 12 years old? How do you know that she didn't refer to her unborn child as Mason from before she was in high school? How do you know that she didn't already start bonding with this Mason fellow immediately upon having named him?? Huh? Huuuuh? How. Do. You. KNOW?
*deep, soothing breaths*
So. I'm naming him Luke.
Well. Lucas on the birth certificate in hopes that he'll be called 'Lucas Hawks' on the first day of school and just plan ol' 'Luke' from that point on.
Also! I added a cheesy pregnancy tracker thing to my blog. Because it's cute. And has polka-dots. And a baby boy in a pea pod.
More interesting thoughts to come.