Can't Stop Thinking About Pipi

I can't stop thinking of my grandchild-to-be as Pipi. No, not Pippi Longstocking—Pipi Sanchez.

It's because of a recent e-mail from Kate, my ex-husband's mother and grandmother to my daughter, Becky:

I just have to warn you that Great-Grandpa [Don] has already named this newcomer about to come into our midst. I can't do a thing with him. He insists that this name just rolls off the tongue. Boy or girl, this it it for him. He's already shared this with Becky. Becky just laughed, good-naturedly, of course. Great-Grandpa wants to call the baby—get this—Pipi Sanchez. [The first] P is for Puerto Rican [which Becky's husband, Li, is], I is for Irish [which I am, among other things, and Kate is], [then another] P is for Polish [which Don is] ... and Becky added, "Don't forget, I have some Indian ancestors." [I have some Iroquois ancestors way, way back.] That did it for Don—it was the final touch—I again, for Indian. PIPI. Maybe you can sue or something. It will cause some hard feelings, but you've got to do what you've got to do.

Now, Becky and Li plan that if they end up with a girl, she'll be Anastasia Diana Sanchez, and they'll call her Annie or Stacy for short. They haven't settled on a boy's name yet. But I bet I'll still think of my grandchild as Pipi.



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