Turtle Diary

I let Wendy talk me into getting turtle pets for Luke and Max. I know this is a mistake. I have a theory that pets teach children that their parents will neglect living creatures and let them die, and I want to at least pretend to be a nurturing father to my children. Wendy got the turtles from the father* of a 12-year-old girl who no longer cared about the turtles and even forgot their names. Bob and Bob 1 or Paul and Paul 1, or something like that.

The boys decided on new names right away. Taking the George Foreman approach, Luke and Max named the turtles Luke and Max, respectively. Wendy shot that idea down, so the boys named them something like Poony and Gartran. We had no problem with this, but the names were quickly forgotten, and the turtles had to be renamed yet again. Luke called his turtle Speedy (pronounced "peedy") and Max called his turtle Gumby (pronounced "dummy"). I thought those were perfectly good names, but this morning I found out they were being called Mr. Turtle and Mr. No No. What the hell? I'm giving them one more day to come up with solid names, or I'm going to intervene. Here are some possibilities (one is a male; the other is either female or a eunuch):

Brady and Belichek

Darcy and Elizabeth

Gawain and Green Knight

Nicholas and Rasputin

Huckleberry and Jim

Dick and George

Lenny and George

Porgy and Bess

Guildenstern and Rosencrantz

Got any suggestions?

* For ye olde WordPerfect folks, the former turtle owner is the one and only Mike Grayson.