opinion
I simply will not be one of those families whose children use their parents’ Christian names. We are not in some sort of perverted cult
A Rubicon has been crossed. There we were, an adult couple on a night out, with no child in sight, and, with me confirming across a bar whether it was a merlot or a cabsav, I very nearly called my wife Mammy. Luckily her name begins with Ma so I was able to divert at the last minute. Mammm… arie. It wasn’t graceful. Figuratively speaking, I avoided the goalpost and ended up tangled in the back of the net but still, with no broken kneecap.
