Driving my 8-year-old cousin to football practice.

Jack: "How do you say 'football' in Spanish?"

Me: "Fútbol americano".

"How do you say, 'running back'?"

"No idea."

"How do you say, 'Jack'?"

"Joaquim."

"How do you say, Luke?" (his best friend)

"Lucás."

"How do you say, Max?" (his other best friend)

I have no idea... "Um, Mateo."

He leans back in my passenger seat. "What would your name be if you could change it? Or would it still be Emily?"

"Mm, I think I like Emily. Would yours still be Jack?"

He ponders this, staring out the window. "No... I don't think so."

I think about the excitement in our extended family as emails went out when his mom and dad were choosing his name. He was the second baby in his generation (his dad is my first cousin). There have been four more since, and we love them all just as much, but the email-chains over name choices did die down somewhat after about number three. I remember hearing he would be Jack.

"Oh yeah? What would you change it to?"

He tilts his head to one side. "I think... probably 'Awesome'."

Grin. "I love it."

"Yeah. I'd change my last name to Awesome. And my middle name to The. But I'd leave my first name Jack." He grins, satisfied. "Yeah. Then my name would be Jack The Awesome. That would be good."

Can't say what a blessing it is to be living in the same town as them.