Hic, Pik and Otis

People who blog regularly are divided on how much to share, how much to keep quiet. “I never post pictures of my kids,” says one blogger who refers to her kids as Freebird and Bubba online. That makes sense, with weird kid stalkers and all out there.

“I never write about health stuff,” says another. “That’s just gross.” See, now I find health stuff fascinating. The grosser, the better. Sorry, but sooner or later, I’ll write about my own medical adventures (I want “I told you I was sick” carved on my headstone.)

So the concept of overshare gives me pause. I decided that perhaps I need to censor myself occasionally, for the sake of my offspring, who may or may not have reputations they’d prefer to ruin themselves.

I mentioned it to my daughters, who shall hereby be known as Hiccup, Potsticker and Owodunni (Yoruban for “it is good to have money.” We believe in head starts.) AKA Hic, Pik and Otis.

“Oh god,” moaned Hiccup. “She’s gonna give us crazy nicknames.”

“Yeah,” added Potsticker. “Something stupid. Like Saffrine.”

Don’t worry, Hic and Pik, your identity is safe with me.

PS: Saffrine’s looking pretty good right now, isn’t it??

30 minutes post blog-publishing:

“Moooom,” complained Potsticker. “You screwed up our nicknames.”

“Yeah,” said Hiccup. “I said ‘Saffrine,’ not her.”

Yes, you read correctly. They are arguing over who gets credit for a non-existent pseudonym.

Right now, Saffrine is my favourite child.