I’ve always loved my son’s name. My wife and I had long decided on what our first born would be called, we even had both genders covered.
My liking of his name, and for that matter our choice for a girl, stemmed, rather sadly, from watching Hollyoaks.
At the time Max and Isabelle, or Izzy, were rather rare – or at least they were in my world.
Now J-Lo has even got in on the act, and I must say I like her choice for her other twin. I wonder if she looked here first, and now she’s had the twins she should definitely have a look here.
On a much more local level I can remember the several times that we have come across other Maxs.
One of note was at a local play group. My son had not long been talking and I was interested to see how confused he may get.
Instead of getting confused, and as usual, he was hilarious. “Look Max, that little boy is called Max too, is that confusing?” My little treasure retorted something like “No, but there’s lots of people called Mommy and Daddy here.”
More recently he has pallied-up with another Max at his nursery. They are known as Max N and Max T, or so we thought, we being me and Max T’s parents.
But anyway, tonight in the bath we were talking about his day at nursery – just to clarify that’s Max N and myself, I’ve not taken to bathing with other parents.
“Did you play with Max T today son?” I asked.
“Max T?” Puzzled my son, “Who’s he? Do you mean Max Templeton*?”
I hope their friendship grows through school, and as I think about it, I actually share first names with my best friend too.
*Name changed to protect the oh-so-innocent, and to save me from asking for permission.