Our youngest, Liam, turns seven today. He is, more officially, known as William Henry Thompson IV, son of William Henry Thompson III, grandson of William Henry Thompson, Jr., great-grandson of William Henry Thompson.
When we had Phoebe, we were thrilled to name her after a bird we loved--one that nests right here on our farm. Three years later, here came a boy baby and we struggled with what to name him. A bird name? Martin? Jay? Raven? Dick-cissel? Pewee? Boy bird names are hard. If we'd had another daughter, she was going to be either Lark or Wren. Julie finally suggested William Henry Thompson IV.
I always thought I'd want to name a son after my dad and grandfather (whom neither my dad nor I got to know, he died when my dad was 2). But when it came right down to it, it did not really matter to me as much as choosing a name that fit the baby--a name we all liked. William IV seemed to work, but we really didn't need another Bill or Billy confusing things at family gatherings, so we chose to call our son Liam. Liam (not Billy) is the shortened version of William among the Irish. Liam seemed to fit.
We have called Liam "Popo" and Po, nicknames derived from mouth noises Julie made at Liam when he was a tiny squirmer. We also sometimes call him "Shoomie" for a sha-sha-sha-sha-shooooom sound Lima made as a slightly older baby, trying to talk. But now that he's a big boy, Liam is pretty much the name we all use. It's not a common name and gets mispronounced and spelled Lima sometimes. But it fits our boy.
So Happy Birthday to my sweet namesake, Liam, he of blonde hair, blue eyes, and a freckled nose--a combination you don't see everyday. But it's what you don't see that makes Liam such a wonderful child.
I love you, Po!