In an attempt to bring joy back into my life in what seems like a season of ill-will, misfortune and tired depression, I will talk today about something that brings me joy. It’s my daughter’s penchant for naming all her toys – apt names sometimes, or names that simply tickle her fancy at the time of the naming ceremony.

Her first named doll is a little bald thing with the most intense eyes and the grimiest all-in-one outfit one ever did see. When she first obtained the doll, three years ago now, my daughter had just turned two. She was enamoured with an Arabic song about seagulls flapping their wings, and one of the phrases in the song was ‘the seagull flapped it’s wings, flap flap!’. So she named her doll ‘Hallaqa Hallaq’ – which means ‘flap flap’. In fact, the doll’s name is the entire phrase but she deigned to shorten it for her own ease of play.

Then she has Foxy – which is a little white fox. Cuddly-cuddly Elephant is a little purple elephant no bigger than my hand. It’s furry and has large imploring purple eyes. She has Button, a little rag-doll with a singular button on its dress. Kung-Fu Panda, which is a panda dressed as a dragon which her father got her from China in celebration of the Chinese new year. She has Goldilocks, which is a plump little marshmallow creature that is shapeless and designed, I suppose, to be ‘cute’. Not in anyway resembling the real Goldilocks – but the name took her fancy and now we can’t see that marshmallow thing as anything other than Goldilocks! And Llamery Sparkle is a colourful little Llama who has a pair of sparkling eyes.

Flower Nice is a velvety puffy ladybird with large black beads for eyes. She followed her dad all around the supermarket the day Flower Nice was procured begging him to buy it for her. He took one look at the price tag and shook his head. But she wouldn’t let up. She implored with her large eyes, she took his hand and kissed it, she hugged and rocked the silly stuffed ladybird as if it would break her heart to part from it. He eventually gave in, of course. Who can resist the charms of an enamoured little three year old?! What will you name her, I asked, once the ladybird was paid for and safely back in her arms. Flower nice, she replied, because flowers are nice and nice because she is nice.

All of this to say, I never named a thing as a child. I had a doll but she certainly had no name, and was subject to all sorts of experimentation by myself and my sister. Bathed, hung, parachuted down the side of an apartment building – no, we did not name her. But my daughter insists on naming everything that can be constituted personage – including ants and moths that happen her way. And that, my friends, brings me much joy.