My eldest son’s name is Nicholas. He was born in the midst of the nativity season, and my wife and I both felt a certain affinity for the venerable Saint Nicholas the Wonderworker of Myra, and so it seemed altogether ordained from above for him to be our little boy’s Patron. On any given Sunday, if I am in charge of leading him about the nave to greet and honor the saints of God, I will always bring him out of the traditional route in order to let him kiss the relics of Saint Nicholas, and I will point to the Icon and tell him a little something about the man for whom he is named.
Well, neither my wife nor I were very fond of the shortened “Nick” and so we fell rather naturally into calling him Nicho (Nee-ko). A strapping young lad of two, he is now able to toss a few words around to make his will known, but he has a little trouble with the sound of the letter “N”, which inevitably comes out sound like a “g.” Of course other pronunciation problems exist as well, such that when he speaks of himself, it sounds as if he is referring to the cute little lizard that does car insurance commercials. Thus, last night as I was taking him to bed, I let him kiss the Icon of Saint Nicholas on his wall and then unusually I paused to ask him, while pointing to the icon: “Who is this?”
He smiled broadly, “Gecko.”
Holy Father Gecko, please pray unto God for us.
...offered by Dn. fdj, a sinner at 3:37 PM [+]