LeBron James

My husband and I were out for a nice Saturday brunch the other day. We really had a great time. Sat outside on a patio of a neighborhood restaurant, had good conversation, laughed a lot. It was nice to spend some uninterrupted time with him.

The restaurant where we ate happened to be connected to a cute little shop, so we decided to stop in after we finished eating. We walked in and started browsing the clothing and jewelry and this unassuming older white woman engaged us in conversation.

You all know by now, I am unmistakably pregnant, so of course it is a typical topic of discussion. We started talking to this woman, first about her inventory and then it switches to raising a baby and how it is such a big responsibility, telling us how hard the work is but how rewarding it will be.

She spoke to us about her son and how she raised him, where she raised him, lessons she taught him….we rolled with it, she was nice enough. It felt a little like she was trying to impart knowledge to us that she didn’t believe we would already have or would get elsewhere.

The conversation turned to names and she asked if we had chosen one. We haven’t yet (that’s a whole other story), but in any event, she proceeds to tell us that names are the most important gift you give to your child. Whatever name you give them shapes their entire life. She told us how she chose the name for her son, Adam. Pretty safe, nothing too flashy, something strong, something that would allow him to move in and out of situations with ease.

She stopped abruptly and looked up at us and asked, are you going to name your son LeBron? I gave my husband the slickest side eye I could manage. She really tried it. Yes, all black people will name their kids LeBron, he is our guiding light and the only beacon of success we have to glean from. What other options for names could there be? (no shade to LeBron of course)

We smiled, politely shook our heads no and walked away smirking.

Author: Randi