When he scrunched up his teeny little forehead, he did look remarkably like an old man. Or, as a friend of mine used to say about these bald newborns, “a Soviet leader.” When at peace though, this adorable eight-hour-old son of my niece proved once again that babies are the salve for any ill. You can’t help but smile when you get close to this innocent perfection.

We smiled even broader when we walked in to see the little bundle of joy perched so comfortably on the lap of his BIG sister, all twenty some pounds of her two-year-old self. “My baby,” Marissa cooed. “This is my brother.” And then, with all the cuteness she could muster, “But who is it?”

Funny you should ask. Now, even twenty-four-hours later, we were still all asking the same thing. It seems that nine months is not quite enough time to come up with the perfect moniker-something with a hint of sophistication, has to roll off the tongue. Needs to fit with the single syllable last name, one with the potential for teasing if not paired with just the right beginning. Oh, and the parents couldn’t know anyone with the name, worried that he would be washed with the personality of another.

Kathy's New Nephew

“Wyatt?” Don Imus’s son…cute, but no. “Dylan?” Nona vetoes that.  So many get thrown over-Matt, Josh, Adam, Nate, Sam, Zack, Iggy (OK, we were reaching).

I had my own veto when they came up with Andrew (a perfectly fine name, mind you). But with names you get nicknames, and if it were Drew, there I’d be, every time we got together, being reminded of my ex-husband. Luckily, they didn’t love it. We took our pictures and fought for the right to snuggle with the tiny boy. Then we left the new parents to their laptop, trying on name combinations only they could fathom.

Summer is upon us, with birthday parties and beach weeks coming up fast. I can’t wait for Mikel Tyler to join in the fun.  And I’m so happy I know nobody by that name.