Atticus

Browsing the aisles of a fashionista discount store, I look up to see a small 6-or-so-year-old boy coming at me around the corner.  As soon as he spotted my body -not even making eye contact at this point, he spouts a hearty, singsong "Hi there!" at me.  He is closely followed by a pair of tall, thin, smirking parental units who immediately chime in a "he's so CUTE"  tone of voice, "Atticus!" over the top of  my smiling, even-toned "Hi" reply.  There is so much to take in all at once as they round the corner away from me that I don't get a good look at them -but, I will be able to follow their progress throughout the store for quite a few minutes.
     OK, I'll just say it -who names their kid Atticus?  It rang pompus in my ears on their initial utterance, and that thought continued to escalate unabated as I heard again and again, "Atticus!, Atticus, Atticus!"  My mental picture of those smirking faces remained strong and my annoyance grew in tandem with their insatiable desire to loudly utter his name repeatedly.  I imagined them grabbing him from behind under his armpits and hoisting him high above their heads Lion King style, parading him around the store for all to see while simultaneously chanting that arrogant name -in effect, shouting "Look -we named our child Atticus -he's Atticus!  He's special!  He's precocious -really, how many 6-year-olds do you know who greet you with the adult-talking-to-a-toddler statement, "Hey, there!"  Yes!  We have an Atticus -a real life little big man Atticus! He's Atticus, Atticus, Atticus!" 

      Maybe I've grown cynical in my middle age.  I must admit I was a tad aghast when my son named his newly acquired (from me) female kitten Artemis, after having been previously dubbed Roxy, short for Roxy Raccoon, which she strongly resembled, by my husband.  It's a mouthful and sounds masculine.  But, after all, it's a cat, now living miles away in Brooklyn and I can always slip a few Roxy's her way and no one will be the wiser.  But that kid's name paired with the incessant repetition of it by his parents throughout the store was too much. 
     Some words of advice:  if you are naming a child, rest assured that choosing Atticus will ensure he's the only one on his block, in his preschool, in his college and probably on the planet with such a unique name.  Which usually translates into drawing extra attention under normal circumstances, but might snowball into a synonym for a cuss word given enough questionable acts on his part in any given social circle.  Do you really want to see eyes roll every time his name comes up?  Think about the inevitable nick names -Atti?  Cus?  Ticus?  Tic (never pronounced Teek, no matter how hard you try to enforce it ).  Buck up and pick something more substantial.  For the sake of all of us, don't name your boy Atticus!  And if he needs correction in a public place -just softly tell him what you want him to do -or just give him "the look."  It's just too stressful for the rest of us otherwise.