Last night at dinner Gavin was telling us about an activity in one of his classes. He started a new trimester yesterday and in order for the teacher and students to better remember one another's names, the teacher had them all say their name and an animal that started with the same letter. Before they could say their own name, they would have to repeat the names/animals of the people before them. Gavin was thrilled that his was number 5 to go. I asked him what animal he picked and he said, "Goshawk". He said that caused quite a stir since it wasn't your typical, gorilla or gator. He likes to be different. He likes to stump people and keep them guessing. However, he later conceded, "Had I given it just a little bit more thought, I would have chosen 'gnat'." Another typical Gavin move. He likes to make fun of the English language and that technically starts with 'g' which is all that matters to Gavin.
Of course the rest of us didn't want to be left out of this oh-so-exciting-name-game. So we went around the table introducing ourselves and our animals. Daddy wasn't there so we got to pick for him. Chloe just couldn't commit, she had to pick the perfect 'c' animal. So she got plenty of help from the peanut gallery. She ended up going with Chloe the Cobra. I was Cori the Cougar. Then there was Bennett the Bunny, Chuck the Chipmunk and Gavin's revised animal: Gavin the Gnat.
This little exercise reminded me of a similar activity by one of my college professors. It was the same concept, a way to get other's to remember your name, instead she asked us to attach a character quality we felt best represented us to our name. Better yet, in our version of this name-game, we get to attach a character quality to our animal as well as ourselves. Bonus! This is how we would prefer you remember us:
Chuck the Cheery Chipmunk
Cori the Courteous Cougar
Gavin the Genius Gnat
Bennett the Bouncy Bunny
Chloe the Curious Cobra
We had loads of stories going about each of our alter egos. It reminded me of by-gone days when we were superheroes at the dinner table (all day long for that matter). The stories wound deeper and deeper. We acted them out. It was the perfect dinner drama.
This is what happens when the children and I are left alone.
