Five year old Ann hated her name. Why couldn’t her parents have named her something else, like Jill or Elaine…heck, even Agatha would have been better than the horrid name that her parents had saddled her with.
She knew that unless she was able to convince her parents to let her get a name change, her life would be filled with shame and ridicule. She would be starting Kindergarten in a few weeks, and she just knew that, because of her name, nobody would want to be her friend.
As she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, she practiced arguing her case for a name change…”Mother, Father, the moniker with which you have burdened me is a yoke of oppression too weighty for any five year old to bear…” No…she discarded that…her parents would never believe she was 5 if she used words like that.
Finally, she settled on, “Mommy and Daddy, can I please have a new name? ‘Ann’ isn’t all that bad of a name, but our last name is Chovie.”