While at a baby shower the topic of the future bambino’s name invariably arises at some point during the evening. While discussing potential names, one guest said, “My parents didn’t name me until I was three.”

I looked at her in surprise. Surely I misheard. “Did you just say that your parents didn’t name you until you were three?”

“Yep.”

“So, what did they call you?”

“Many things: ‘hey you,’ ‘sweetie,’ ‘honey,’ but mostly just ‘baby girl.’ That’s what’s on my birth certificate.”

“Your parents called you ‘baby girl’ for three years?” I asked incredulously.

“Yeah. They wanted my personality to emerge before they named me. Then one day when I was three Mom said, ‘Sunny!’ and I turned my head. It stuck. That’s what they called me from then on.”

To her, I simply smiled and nodded. In my head, I played out various scenarios. What if her mom had just dropped a hammer on her toe and in pain exclaimed, “Crap!” What if her husband had asked her what she wanted for breakfast and she yelled “Pancakes!” What if a friend had asked her what movie she wanted to see and she had enthusiastically answered, “Alien!” Sunny’s a lucky gal.