Look out Dr. Suess, here we come

Last night, my extremely round, pregnant little sister phoned to whine to me. You see, she just figured out she was going to become a mommy and it is freaking her out. (It's a good thing too, seeing how she's set to burst on or around April 5.) The thought of being responsible for another life is a little overwhelming for a young woman. No more boozing, dancing the night away, Sex-In-The-City lifestyle.

My heart broke for her. Yeah right. For the last ten years I have either been gestating, lactating or chasing a child. Where was her support? Oh, that's right dear internet. It was somewhere in the bottom of a martini glass, clutched by a sweaty hand while gyrating out on a dance floor.

But, I am not heartless. I am not fickle. I will stand by my soon-to-be-square, future soccer-mom sister.

That was until she told me the name of her child, if the child happens to be a boy.

Ric Kayden. My eight year old son's name is Fric Aiden. See the problem here?

That's right dear internet. My sister insists on turning us into the Dr. Suess family on the block.

My honey says it will be easier to remember when the Alzheimer's sets in. Always the supportive one.

*all names have been changed to pacify my husband*