If I had a kid (son or daughter) I think I’d name him/her Futon cause why not, right? Futons are colorful and comfortable and above all, versatile, which is pretty vital for a child these days in our post-digital-blah age. And it has a nice ring to it. Foooo-taaaan. It’s soothing. He’ll be the talk of the town, for sure.
Ahh, I can just imagine Futon as a baby, with his overly-round head, big brown eyes, no teeth to speak of, and, wait, what’s that in his hand, “No put it down Futon! No. Futon. We don’t eat batteries. Futon.” “Why are we leaving batteries around?” I grumble to my partner who’s in the kitchen. “You mean why do I leave batteries around?” He walks in with arms-folded. He continues teary-eyed, “You don’t think I want this baby do you?”
“FUTON NO, do not draw on the couch! Here. Paper. Draw.” “I have five million things to do right now I can’t deal with this,” he returns to the kitchen. “The answer to your question is yes,” I start following him, “Cause why should I think you want this baby when you’re, can you at least look at me or is that…” “I need to get ready, fine, ok, I’m looking at you, what?” He’s pretty much crying by now. “Nothing, forget it.” “What you obviously want to say something just…” Now we’re both crying. “I don’t know man just, obviously things are, oh wow look, look what he drew.” We stand around our child, I pick up the piece of paper he was coloring on. There’s a bright red rectangle-thing with a brownish bottom. Three little stick figures seem to be sitting on it. “What is it?” he asks. “Dude, it’s a futon.”