February 6, 2007
Two of my all time favorite commenters, Vanilla and Akshaye, asked a very important question in response to my last post. They both wondered how that pretty-pink bear landed itself a crazy name like Email.
Here's the long and short of it.
SHORT ANSWER: James named it. He's two, he has no concept of appropriateness, and he would legally change his own name to SpongeBobSpidermanBananaHead Lawson if we'd allow it. Fortunately we have very sound judgment, and will only allow James to select a new name that features one cartoon character. He is currently deliberating between Skeletor Lawson and Elmo Lawson. Nice choices if I do say so myself.
(Holy geeze.where do I come up with this garbage? That was completely made up.)
LONG ANSWER: At Build-a-Bear Workshop, there are several steps involved with the creation of that very special forever friend. First you pick its limp and lifeless body out of a large bin. Then you step on the pedal to fill it with stuffing. After it's stuffed, you give it a pretend bath, with pretend water, in a pretend tub. Next you dress it, and then, after it's fashionably decked out, you sit down at a computer and type up its birth certificate.
This is where the name Email comes into the mix. After playing a Bob-the-Builder game one time, James has fallen madly in love with the computer, or the "email," as he likes to call it. So when we sat down at the computer to name the bear, all James could say was, "Email, email, EMAIL. EMAIL!!!"
"Yes James," I'd say. "That's the email. Now what would you like to name your bear?"
"EMAIL!!!!" he'd yell, "EMAIL!!!"
"Mmmm...maybe Pinky or Pickles or RubbahBoots?"
Etcetera, etcetera, and so on and so forth. That's how the bear got it's name. Perhaps the more interesting question would be: Why does James call the computer an email?
When I was a stay-at-home-mom, which I miss desperately by the way, I spent so much time on-line that I began to feel slightly guilty and embarrassed about it. Jared would often come home to find me on-line, and in an effort to skirt the truth, I'd tell him that I was checking my email--which was a bold faced lie. Because in all actuality I was blogging, or reading blogs, or chatting with my running moms friends. Then I'd go on-line again before dinner and tell him I was checking my email, and again after dinner, and the pattern would persist well into the night.
Obviously, Jared knew I was fibbing because A) Donald Trump doesn't even get that much important email, and B) I wasn't Donald Trump, I was a babysitter.
To save my reputation with my toddler, I also told him that Mommy was taking care of important business and checking her email. I told that fib so many times that James came to believe that the computer was actually called an email, and the term has stuck.
Thank goodness I never told James the truth about the long chats with my cyber-boyfriend, because if my kid had started calling the computer the "Rock Hard Body God," Jared definitely would have caught on.
Hope that answers your questions because I definitely need to sign off--my boss thinks I'm checking my email.
Just kidding, it's my lunch.