Sofie. It's a pretty name, with its two soft syllables. It has a hint of old-fashioned delicacy.
Not that Sofie, born early in the morning of April 4, Easter Sunday, is likely to grow up either old-fashioned or delicate. As the youngest of six, my newest grandchild will probably learn quickly that delicacy won't serve her very well. Chances are she'll be diving into the melee and demanding her turn by the time she's a few months old.
Her two preteen brothers, old hands by now when it comes to babies, will probably toss her around casually and treat her with the offhand affection they would give to a new pet. Her sisters will probably play dress-up with her and experiment with her hair when she has enough to experiment with. They'll press her into service as an extra plaything when she's convenient, and shut her out of their room indignantly when she's not. Of course, all four of them have already taken her picture to school to show everyone, and they fight over who gets to hold her next.
Her littlest big brother, age two, shouted at first sight of her, "It's a baby!" Presumably this was a sign of joy, although there's always a chance he was disappointed because he had been expecting a puppy. He whispers loudly when she's sleeping and says her name with tenderness in his voice.
He will inflict random attacks of affection on his tiny sister in the form of sloppy kisses, energetic hand-pumping, and enthusiastic pats on the head. She will learn to tolerate this toddler tough love. (As my niece said about the youngest of her four small children when he was a few weeks old, "At least he doesn't flinch any more when they give him love.")
Sofie is sure to thrive on all this attention. And as the youngest, no doubt she'll learn to manage her older siblings with indirect strategies rather than confrontation. Her name, after all, means "wisdom."