When my wife and I acquired a cat at the start of our relationship, the arrival of said cat nearly ended said relationship.

It wasn’t the cat’s fault – by now she’s been a constant companion for almost 5 years; it was the naming of said cat that nearly derailed what is now a healthy 5 year-old relationship, complete with marriage, emasculation and pregnancy.

It took us weeks to name the stupid thing. And it was never going to matter much. Cat’s might – MIGHT – recognize their names, but odds are even if they do, they don’t care when you call it. So the cat’s name is more for our benefit than the pet’s.

A child’s name, on the other hand, is significant. And we have two months left to come up with one. It is much harder than naming a cat.

We’ve gone through at least 5 baby books, browsed nearly every baby name website there is, ruled out names of friends’ babies, decided against any family names, considered creative spellings of common names (Aleksander, anyone?) and even blurted out the names of inanimate objects, just to, ya know, see how it feels. I’m partial to Gravel. Or Headlight.

But we cannot agree. On any. The worst part is that before we knew the gender of the kid, we knew exactly what we’d name the little lady. And then the penis appeared. And now we’re stuck. Not literally.

The looming deadline isn’t helping, nor is the constant shouting from the peanut gallery. Nothing is worse than testing a potential name on your family or friends and receiving a violently negative reaction. It’s hard enough for the two of us to find consensus, allowing others to influence the process does nothing but create more angst and indecision.

So with two months to go, we’re keeping our mouths shut. Mostly because we have nothing to say. She has her favorites, and I have mine, and never the twain shall meet.

I’m ready to call the thing Blank, at this point. Keep your opinions to yourself.