I very much enjoy asking young'uns what their stuffed animal's name is if they are holding one. They're often ever so funny. Sometimes simplistically ironic, sometimes out there. Stuffed lovies are a glimpse of a child's psyche, wouldn't you say?
For example, my pseudo-adopted 3rd daughter, Maggie (who gives the best Maggie squeezes!), has a bear named Winston. Isn't that just a perfect name for a little bit of well loved fluff and fur?
My mom's house has a veritable menagerie of animals all named by my niece, who has spent years enjoying the perks of having her grandma as her babysitter. She has come up with such childhood gems as "Moo-y" and "Blacky." Surprise, surprise: Moo-y is a cow and Blacky is...black.
In our house, my only child who has naming capabilities is pretty kid-standard, which is why we have "Kitty" and "purple teddy bear" among others. Kitty is THE favorite, 90% of the time, so that name is stuck. The boy and I, however, have occasionally taken it upon ourselves to vary the naming lingo. Hence, we have Giggly the Gorilla (him) and Polly Panda (me).
Why do we naturally go for alliterative names with children's toys? It strikes me as somewhat derivative. But also purposeful? Perhaps such tendencies aid in reading skills, cause really, lots of kid-centric activities do. (Case in point, I read how bouncing a baby, 6 months and up, can aid in future reading skills. If I am remembering it correctly, it had to do not so much with the action but with the parent talking with their child at the same time as the activity was strengthening core muscles. Which consequently means that it doesn't really matter that you're bouncing your child on an exercise ball as the article heading was trying to emphasize so long as you're talking with your child. I digress...)
I am a fan of unique, old-fashioned-y types of names, the ones that I reserve for my future pets and stuffed animals. (My next cat will be Bernard. Boy or girl, it matters not. B-E-R-N-A-R-D) All of this is to say that shortly before Audrey was born, we took Abby to a store and allowed her to choose a gift for her baby sister. Abby has impeccable taste when it comes to stuffed animals, apparently, because she chose the sweetest, softest, snuggliest little stuffed duck that I have ever seen. I would let it cuddle me to sleep given the chance. This poor little duckie remained nameless for a few weeks until after Audrey was born and he was produced and gifted in all of his fowl glory (irony on the pun, intentional). And he was christened "Conrad." And it was good.
In fact, it was so good that we (namely, me) chose the closest shades of yellow and white that we could when recently choosing paint colors for Audrey's room. (We're of the belief that you paint the baby's nursery a year after the baby is born. Kidding.) If you could only see my hands right now, you would be most aware that there was some serious painting going on today. Conrad, the room, has been created. And IT is pretty good, too. Not as fluffy cute as Conrad, the original, though...