We named him Brave, thinking it would help him to overcome the adversaries in his life. We did not anticipate him overcoming the tables, the couch, his older brothers, his lunch bowl, the baseball bat, or the pitch of the next-loudest kid in the room. We knew we were in trouble this summer when he crawled straight into the waves at the beach and kept on crawling to his would-have-been-death. It doesn't help that he is now a 1-year-old, and everybody knows that 1-year-olds, like puppies, always head for the nearest source of bacteria (the toilet, the trash, his poop-covered thingy) whenever off leash.
Should we have named him something more neutral, like Joey or Tim or Cornelius?
Nah.
