Co-written by Lisa Stevens, Kayla’s mom
Kayla: So you wanted to write an article about people who repeatedly mispronounce names, right, Mom? Can I call ya Mom?
Lisa: I prefer “Your Excellency.”
K: Always modest. Your first name’s Lisa. That seems pretty straightforward. Do people mispronounce it?
L: I get a lot of “Elisa”
K: People are fools. My name is often mispronounced as “Kyla.” Discuss.
L: “Kyla” is like a slap to my face. “Kayla” is a beautiful name, fit for an empress or a movie star or a minor musical theater success story. “Kyla” says, “Hey, I have a drinking buddy named Kyle, but I had a girl baby, so Imma name it Kyla in his honor.”
K: I like what you said about me having an empress name. It fits in well with my power complex. What do you think about eccentric celeb children names like Mowgli, Apple, Jermajesty, etc?
L: I think you should choose a name that guides your child’s destiny. Take the name Destiny, for example. That girl is doomed. Far better to have a distinguished, slightly unusual name. But Mowgli is definitely a bridge too far. That kid is going to be bullied on playgrounds and corporate boardrooms for all eternity.
K: Guiding destiny, huh? Does that mean Gwyneth Paltrow’s child will one day, in fact, become an apple?
L: Yes, but a responsibly-grown, organic, pesticide-free one.
K: So how do you feel about me wanting to name my children Cardigan and Corduroy?
L: How do you envision their destinies with those names? Mogul in the textile industry? Bedraggled, yet beloved, teddy bear? Also, I can’t envision those names on bat mitzvah invitations or in the weddings section of the New York Times.
K: Maybe I’m taking a more hands-off approach. They can be moguls or teddy bears – it’s 2016, Mom. Now, when you were thinking of topics to discuss, you brought up the fact that (in your opinion) there are no neurosurgeons named Tammy. Why do you think there are no neurosurgeons named Tammy?
L: “Tammy” does not inspire confidence. Tammy is not to be entrusted with your precious synapses. Tammy can’t even be trusted to get your Starbucks order correct.
K: I actually found five neurosurgeons named Tammy online. Okay, one of them was a secretary for the medical practice, but close enough. Discuss.
L: I can only assume that these Dr. Tammy’s were compelled to treat their regrettable name as a handicap to overcome, like, having sweaty hands or an uncontrollable need to use the word “eclectic” in everyday conversation.
K: Honestly, there’s too much there to even begin to unpack. Moving on. You’re a doctor, right?
L: My patients seem to think so.
K: I’ve been calling you “Doctor L Dog” (sometimes spelled “Dawg”) for years. How does this make you feel? Do you have any regrets?
L: Doctor L Dawg gives me street cred. Hey, I may be elbow-deep in your rectum, but I am rocking my stylish rubber gloves.
K: At this point, I think it’s important to note that you are a gastroenterologist. Just to contextualize that rectum comment.
K: So if people just started calling you “Doc” like that one dwarf in Snow White or that member of the Jets in West Side Story, how would you feel?
L: People who call me “Doc” make me deeply suspicious. It makes them sound like confidence men from 1940’s film noir. I’m afraid they’re going to try to embroil me in a Ponzi scam or take me downtown for questioning.
K: When I was little, I desperately wanted a nickname, but Kayla doesn’t really lend itself to that. There was a time when I tried to go by “Icy” for an unknown reason. If you could come up with a new nickname for yourself, what would you choose?
L: I don’t think one should be allowed to choose one’s own nickname. It must be bestowed, like an Oscar or an STD. Would now be a good time to mention some of the nicknames we had for you?
K: Sure. What were your favorites?
L: Kayla-Wail-a, because you spent the first three months of your life crying inconsolably. And Gator Girl, because trying to change your diaper was like wrestling a very small, skinny alligator.
K: Also because I was scaly and had a wide snout, right?
L: No, that was your sister, Miss Monitor Lizard.
K: I see. You know how I wrote that article about people ruining names? Have any names been ruined for you? Why?
L: I could never name a child Shlomo, because that name just makes me laugh uncontrollably. Also, Babar is probably not a great choice, unless you have given birth to a pachyderm from a disgraced royal family.
K: I see. Final question: If you had to name your child either Hitler, Stalin, or Trump, which would you choose?
L: Why choose? Use ‘em all. That kid would definitely be the first to get picked for the kickball team or for a massive land war.
