So, as the title says, today we have something special in honor of Mothers’ Day. We’ll be meeting the lovely mother of Blank Mastermind‘s
villain hero main character. That woman who decided that Wolfgang Dankworth was a good name. (Her point of view is actually very fun to write. <3)
So, I know what you’re thinking.
Leaving dead characters to their dead-ness is sort of the thing to do, isn’t it?
So, yeah. Here I am going in depth and developing a character that has a total of two pages to star in in the story.
And you all get to reap the
consequences benefits of that. You’re welcome.
Now, sit back and enjoy the tale of how Wolfgang got that name that haunts him to this very day.
I really hate hospitals. All the antiseptic smell and clean white everything just . . . bleh. It gives me a headache. Tenses me up. And that’s not what I need when I’m going through labor.
It was the longest night of my life. Next time I’m doing a homebirth.
But it was worth it. More than worth it.
I thought I couldn’t have the energy to hold a glass of water after I finally gave the final push . . . much less a new baby. Silly me. I’ll always have the energy to hold a baby.
Finally, the doctors and nurses were done prodding at both of us and Will and I had a moment alone with our new baby . . . our boy.
My face felt like it would split with how wide I was smiling. I tickled my finger over the edge of the blanket to touch my baby’s tiny hands. He grabbed on tight and made a face, fussing as the end of my braid brushed past his face.
Will peered over my shoulder at him and kissed me on the cheek. “You did it, honey.”
I nodded, still keeping my eyes on the baby’s face and bouncing him in my arms until he quieted down. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” I looked up to smile at Will, “Well . . . handsome,” I laughed.
The baby scrunched his nose and made a small, angry-sounding noise.
“He’s pretty red and scrunched up right now,” William tipped his head a little and rubbed at the back of his neck, then smiled back at me. “But that’s . . . normal for babies, right?”
I nodded, “Yep.”
Though I honestly thought the red, scrunchy-ness was kind of cute and didn’t see what Will was complaining about.
I rubbed a hand over the light fuzz of hair on the baby’s head, smoothing it down gently. The bit in the front stuck right back up and I laughed. “He has your hair, see?”
Will leaned in closer to see the big swirl in his son’s hair pattern that so closely matched his own. “Heaven help us, my boy’s been cowlicked.” He rubbed his own hand over it, but it still wouldn’t lie down flat.
The baby waved a fist and fussed again.
I kissed his head softly, enjoying the sweet, new baby smell.
We needed to name him. And I actually had exactly the name I’d wanted to name a son picked out . . . and had it picked out since I was seventeen.
Only William thought I was joking every time I brought it up, so I wasn’t sure it would go over well.
I bounced the baby in my arms. “We should name him.”
Will nodded, thinking for a second as he looked at our baby. “He look like a Peter to you?”
I twisted my mouth to one side and shook my head, trying to make a show of considering it. “Nooo . . . I don’t think so.”
“Samuel?” he suggested.
“Not that either. He looks more like a . . .” I looked up at the ceiling and pretended to be in deep thought for a few seconds before continuing. “A . . . Wolfgang.”
Will started to laugh, but trailed off as he saw the hopeful puppy-eyes I was giving him. His expression slowly shifted to shock and disbelief. “I . . . I thought . . . Rach, we can’t name our kid Wolfgang. He’ll hate us. That’s a horrible name.”
“Why is it so horrible?” I looked back down at the baby in my arms and called him Wolfgang in my mind.
“It’s like . . .” Will gestured a couple of times, like I’d just asked him why the night was dark or why the ocean was full of water. “It’s wolves . . . which are . . . generally considered unfriendly and . . . bad. And then gangs. Which are definitely unfriendly and bad. And then they’re mixed together into one awkward name. It’s not . . . good.”
“But that’s not what people will think of,” I insisted, “It’s like Mozart. That’s what everyone knows Wolfgang for. It’s classical and dignified. And named after a genius. Maybe why there aren’t more geniuses in the world is because more people don’t name their children Wolfgang.”
I smiled down at the baby again, who was sleeping peacefully. “And we could call him Wolfy for a nickname.”
“No it isn’t, it’s cute. Or people could call him Wolf. That’s not bad.”
William looked less repulsed at the idea of Wolf, but still wore a pained expression.
“And plus,” I continued, “There are going to be a ton of other Peters and Samuels running around. He won’t feel special. But if he’s the only Wolfgang . . .”
“He’ll feel like a freak,” Will finished. “Rachel, really. Wolfgang Dankworth. Does that sound like the name of a respectable human being or a cartoon villain?”
I tipped my chin out stubbornly. “He sounds like a hero.”
Will rubbed a hand over his face.
“Will,” my tone softened to slightly pleading. “Please. I’ve loved that name for years and years. I would just . . . it’s my favorite and I’m sure it wouldn’t be any . . .”
He sighed and gave a little laugh. “You’re adorable, Rach. You know that?”
“Please?” I repeated, hugging the baby tighter and hoping with all that was in me that I could name him Wolfgang. “His middle name could be Samuel if you want.”
Will pushed back his smile for a few seconds and gave me a serious look. “I get to name our next kid, alright?”
I grinned and held back from squealing. “Thank you, thank you!” I looked down at the baby in my arms, my smile widening. “Wolfgang Samuel Dankworth. Welcome to the world.”
William leaned in and put an arm around my shoulders, giving me a kiss. “Let’s hope I can get used to that.”
I leaned into him, snuggling baby Wolfgang closer to me. “You’ll see. It’s a perfect name for a great man. Everyone will get used to it. And love it like I do.”
“You need to get some rest,” Will gave my braid a tug. “Are you hungry at all?”
“Starving,” I smiled up at him. “Could you get me some peanut butter?”
“Just peanut butter?”
“Just peanut butter.”
He laughed, standing. “As long as you don’t drip it on little Wolfy’s head.”
So, there’s your thing for the day.
Hope you all enjoyed the story! How did you get your name?
Now go. Hug your mom or something. Thank her that she didn’t name you Wolfgang. -shoos you-