What's in a name?

When Lucas was a teeny tiny little guy his name just didn't fit him. It seemed too big, too solid for such a little guy. Between Abel and me we called him a million different baby-type nicknames. One day I started calling him Stinky and that particular nickname really stuck.

So much so that two years later we have nicknames for the nickname...around our house you will hear Lucas called Stinky, Stinks, Stinky Linky, Kinky, Kink-a-links, Kinks and on and on.

I'm so embarrassed about this.

And, I've tried to stop.

So many times I've resolved to myself that we would drop the nicknames and start calling him Lucas. The first resolution came as he really started talking. I was terrified that he'd think his name was Stinky. I've never really been able to drop it completely, though, because Abel won't even consider dropping the nicknames.

And, my deepest fear came true--Lucas calls himself Kinky. As in "No! Kinky do it!" or "Kinky shoes!". And yet, if you ask him what his name is he confidently replies, "Lucas".

Hmmm...has he, in his hard-working little mind, figured out the difference between his at-home pet nickname and his real name? Me thinks so!

Yet, I've always still been determined that eventually we need to drop the Kinky.

And then.

On my drive into work I was tuned into NPR (as usual) and, in the middle of a story about the complicated system of how Texas Democrats assign their electoral votes, something caught my attention.

Did they just say Gubernatorial candidate Kinky Friedman?

As soon as I got in, I googled "Texas Kinky" and what popped up? This.

He's a musician, author, chef, owner of a cigar company and politician.

A bit of an oddball, yes. But still a seemingly respectable and successful grown man.

Whose name is Kinky.

I may or may not be buying this for my Kinky.