It’s kind of a thing to come up with a cutesy name for your baby when they’re in-utero. ‘Bean’, ‘Peanut’, you know what I’m talking about. I even have a friend who called hers ‘Daisy’ as in whoopsie-daisy – oh, the perils of heterosexual family planning!
When I was pregnant with Arty, I was blogging weekly, making posts like this using the standard fruit-to-baby size reference that everyone seems to fall into for convenience. My friend Chris started joking about him being part baby, part fruit, and dubbed him ‘Fruiby’.
It was weird, but we liked it and it stuck.
Towards the end of the pregnancy, I was worried that it would stick too well, and people would continue to call him Fruiby after he’d been born. It’s all well and good for a foetus to have a comedy nickname, but it’s not what I wantd everyone to call our newborn son. Luckily he was such an Arty that the old handle was instantly shed.
‘Twoby’ emerged pretty early on in our discussions about a second baby – one of us said it out loud, we laughed, and again it stuck.
So, until they’re in the world, and have a real name, this idea-of-future-baby is called Twoby.
That’s the story.