A Name

Oliver didn’t start out as Oliver. In fact, Oliver wasn’t anywhere on our list. We had 3 others (two family names and a (shocking) non-family name), but we really couldn’t decide which name we liked best. So, doing what anyone would do, we just decided to wait.

Fast forward to November and the Florida trip. On the way home, discussing names, my mother in law mentioned that her grandfather’s, Andy’s great-grandfather, name was James Oliver. I fell in love with the name Oliver. One more name added to the mix.

Scout, as most know, has been his name from the very beginning. Something I threw out there when Elsie wanted to know what to call “it” and as I absolutely despise calling babies “it” the name Scout was born (and sister being the best big sister ever took it and ran with it – it was “Scout this” and “Scout that”).

But deciding on the final name was tough. I really didn’t think I wanted “Scout” on the actual birth certificate. We deliberated for days (ok the 3 we were at the hospital…have you tried coming up with a middle name for Oliver? Most of what we were coming up with Oliver sounded better as the middle name!) We went through every family name we could think of, but when you have 375 family members with either (1) no middle name (2) the middle name Lynn or (3) named Paul, William, or John, it becomes quite the challenge.

The moment of truth came when the birth certificate lady came in on our final morning wanting to know what to put on the paperwork.

“Oliver is his first name.” I blurted out. Quickly turning to Andy I told him he had to just pick a middle name.

“Oliver Scout.” Once he said it, it was just perfect. It flowed. It fit. It was my favorite.

Thus the very long story of how a very sweet boy got his semi-unusual, mostly-family name.