Kutti + Baby = Kuki

Unlike her angelic brother who mewed softly like a kitten when he was born, Kuki made her entrance into the world four years ago bawling like a banshee.

The obstetrician covered her ears and the nurses poked their heads into the room, claiming they could hear the baby out in the parking lot.

“Nothing wrong with her lungs,” wryly observed the doctor, as she placed a muculent, caterwauling newborn face-down on mom’s belly.

Exhausted and sweaty from the labor, mom clung to her clammy bundle of joy, afraid the baby would slip from her hold and fall to the floor. She was still amazed that nobody had managed to drop either one of her babies as she ejected them from her body. As far as she could tell, there was no safety net below the birthing bed, like in a trapeze act, to catch slimy babies that fell through the doctor’s grasp.

As the nurse whisked the infant away to the far side of the room to be weighed and cleaned, mom prodded dad who stood silently holding her hand. “Go count the baby's fingers and toes,” she hissed, slightly miffed that he had forgotten to charge the camcorder battery despite being informed of the big event approximately nine months in advance.

When the nurse finally handed a swaddled, quiet babe to mom, she noted that the little angel looked quite like her older brother did when he arrived – chalky white with pink splotches, shriveled skin, navy blue eyes, a conical head from being sucked out and a face that didn’t resemble anybody the humans knew.

Mom (cooing): “Hi, kutti baby! Welcome ... Hello, Ananya.”

Dad: “Ahem … I thought we’d decided not to go with Ananya.”

Mom: “But Ananya’s a nice name. I tried it on the nurse and she didn't mess it up. It means unique.”

Dad: “Yes, I know what it means. But I still prefer the other name we picked.”

Mom (stalling): “You mean the one you picked. But Ananya starts with an ‘A,’ like Anu.”

Dad (acting as though he had just squeezed a watermelon through a grape-sized hole the last five hours): “Look, stop being so wishy-washy. When you decide on something, stick to it. What’s the point of going back and forth again?”

Mom (snapping): “Fine, do what you like.”

Dad (storming out of the room): “Fine!”

Mom gazed at her infant, who looked back at her quizzically. Barely an hour old, the baby had already witnessed her first battle of the sexes.

Mortified at the first impression they had created, mom decided to conserve her energy for the really important battles, such as whose turn it was to change the baby’s soiled diaper, or who gets to pace the hallway with a crying infant at 3 a.m.

A good half-hour later, as her arms grew weary of holding the suckling and the sensations slowly returned to her nether regions, dad walked into the room, looking slightly apologetic. He took the sleeping baby from mom’s hands, and with a sheepish grin, handed her the birth record.

"How considerate," noted mom.

The baby's middle name was now officially Ananya.