Names, names, names

Max and I have been talking about his name lately. I've been telling him about his middle and last name, specifically. He can say it, but it comes out "Tree Pahtr" instead of "Dmitry Potter." He really likes saying it, though, and has been wondering around muttering it here and there. Overall, he's getting much more verbal and his repetition is really improving. Today, Uncle H. said, "Oh, man," and before he could walk away, he heard, "Oh, man" right back. It was pretty cute.

Max has also been curious about what everyone else's name is. What's Tante's name? (Or as he asks, "Tante?") Morfar? Nana? Ro-Ro? And then we say everyone's name and he repeats it as best he can.

Today for Good Friday we went to church and prayed. On the way out we picked up a prayer card to pray for a baby in danger of abortion. When I asked him what he wanted to name our spiritually adopted baby, he said, "Pie Pahtr" very decisively. He knows Rosie's name is Rosie Pie Potter and Tunia, his cuddly dog is Petunia Pie Potter, so I guess he figured our baby's name should be Pie too. Cute.

So cute I won't go into the fact that he managed to break my favorite rosary in the short distance between Bumpa's house and the church. Sigh.