Hello, my name is Petite Américaine

"Kärt barn har många namn” is a Swedish expression that means, "A dear child has many names." You've hit the nail on the head, Sweden. Tack (thanks).

I love names. I love giving (not calling) people names, and I love receiving them. Sometimes long, sometimes short, nicknames are the beer and cheese (delicious essentials) of friendship. Nicknames are how I tell someone that she (or he) is not just a regular old girl (or boy) with a regular old name, but that she (or he) is an indispensable character in my life, worthy of a special name. Like knighthood, but without the sword.

I love that different nicknames work in different languages. Here in Francy Pants, lots of people call me la petite américaine, or petite Sonia. In English, these both sound condescending (Hey there, little American! See you soon, little Sonia!) and this would not fly with me at home. Americans don't call each other "little" anything (and being American is too mainstream for a nickname). 

But the French slip the word petit(e) in wherever possible, and it just sounds endearing and/or affectionate. There's the classic French petit café, a shot of espresso in a teeny cup with a tiny spoon. Logical. But I've also heard men talk about their petite bière while nursing a liter of the stuff. In this case, I understand it to mean that one liter is a mere drop in the bucket of beer over the course of a life. 

What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.

Not so fast, Juliet! There's a lot you can't see from that balcony, namely the beauty and majesty of a good name. (Girl was in love, probably not thinking about nicknames.)

I love giving people names that stick. Who knew that Yiddish-izing Tove into Tovela would work so well? Or that a simple Sassy Sis could say so much? Or that gentle Vincent could become the mighty V-meister? All this magic with a little tap of my nickname wand.

I love my name in these parts because no one mispronounces it; none of that SAWN-ya business I hear in the States. It's SONE-ya, good lord, SONE-ya! But pronounced in French, the emphasis is on the second syllable: sone-YA.

Case in point: when American friends are happy to see me on the internet, they write, "Soooooooooonia!" When French friends are happy to see me on the internet, they write, "Soniaaaaaaaaaa!"

I'd bet a block of Brie that the most popular French girl names (of my generation) begin with A and M; in mon petit portable, my humble cellular telephone, I have six of each: Adeline, Amandine, Anais, Annie, Audrey, Aurélie. Marie, Maryse, Marion, Marine, Maryne, Myriam. Très français. So French.

No traceable letter trends with boy names. "Quentin" remains a nightmare to pronounce: kohn-tahn, not kahn-tohn. See what I mean?


For now I'll only say that while

a rose is a rose is a rose,

a good name is the loveliest rose in the garden.