Name day Part One

Well we didn't have a name day today for Tiger.

We abandoned it soon after we embarked on it due to a) chronic disorganisation and b) Tiger having a squeal lasting from 4pm to after 6pm, covering the planned name day tea party thrown by mummy Grit in her honour.

Name days, I am rapidly coming to the conclusion, is a crap idea.

I'm sure you know it. The idea is that every day of the year has a name attached to it, so when your name rolls round you get to celebrate along with everyone else called that. Now we don't have this tradition in Britain, probably thanks to Henry VIII, so we nicked it from just about any other European country that seems to have it.

Our theory goes that with three kids all born within one minute of each other, they would pretty soon get fed up of competing with each other over everything. Worst of all, they get to do it on their birthday too, so they are never the special girl and it's never really their birthday. And for a girl who never has a birthday of her own, life will go downhill quicker than a Gloucester cheese on cheese-rolling day. And whose fault will it all be? Ours. Tiger's already whining that no-one asked her permission before she was born. Soon enough she'll be dressing in black and crawling under the duvet refusing to come out for three years.

So we thought we would try and delay being blamed for the conception by celebrating each girl individually. 'Aha!' we could say. 'This day is totally yours! No-one else in the family gets a look in! Have the day all to yourself! Today we are celebrating ...Tiger!'

Except that Tiger spent most of the day shouting and weeping and complaining about being born at all.

We're trying again on Friday.