From an article by Sarah Maizes:
The other day I met a woman at a party.
Within minutes of chatting with this well-coiffed, blonde lady in a jaunty beret, I knew everything about her I would ever need to know. All she had to do was tell me her son’s name: “Javier Tiberius.”
It didn’t matter what her last name was. Whether it was Goldberg or Kennedy, it bowed under the baggage of the beret-wearin’ character in front of me. Further conversation only confirmed my hypothesis, revealing a woman whose only son was, in her mind, royalty.
A play date did not ensue. Which was fine. Especially since I suspected my child wouldn’t pass inspection. Or might get beheaded.
Okay, I’m judgmental. But don’t we all form opinions about people based on the names of their children?
I’ll admit it — I do.
If so, can you give us any examples?