Great Baby Name War

Lingling thought this was going to be a simple conversation.

They would sit down, go through a well-curated list of elegant, meaningful Thai names and come to a logical decision after rational discussion.

It would be efficient.

It would be graceful.

It would be a reflection of their combined intelligence.

Instead—

She found herself in the middle of a naming war so chaotic it deserved its own documentary.

Lingling, ever prepared, ever structured, opened her laptop with purpose.

"Alright," she began, scrolling through her carefully researched list. "I've compiled a list of traditional, meaningful names—"

"Wait, wait, wait."

Orm held up a hand dramatically.

Lingling narrowed her eyes.

"Before we get to your 'CEO-approved' names, I have some ideas too."

Lingling exhaled.

"Go ahead."

Orm cleared her throat.

Sat up straighter.

And, with all the confidence of a woman who had just been given the floor at an important conference, she delivered her first name suggestion—

"Okay. First option: Nong Tangmo."

Lingling blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Then, slowly, in pure disbelief—

"...Watermelon?"

"It's cute!" Orm defended, gesturing wildly. "Who doesn't love watermelon?"

"Orm, we are not naming our daughter after a fruit."

Orm huffed.

"Fine, fine." She waved her hand dismissively. "No food names. Got it. Moving on—"

Lingling rubbed her temples.

"Good."

"What about Nong Pla?"

Lingling paused.

"You want to name our child 'Fish'?"

Orm perked up, nodding.

"I mean, it's a strong animal—"

"Orm."

"It represents adaptability! Survival!"

"ORM."

"FINE." Orm sighed dramatically, flopping back against the couch. "No food, no fish. You are so restrictive."

Lingling glanced at her laptop, reminding herself that she married this woman willingly.

"Alright. Now that we've eliminated anything edible or aquatic, let's—"

"WAIT!"

Lingling shut her eyes.

She knew exactly what was coming.

"What about Nong Fai?"

She opened one eye.

"...Fire?"

"YES." Orm grinned, as if she had just discovered the meaning of life. "It's cool, right? Think about it—our daughter, a powerful, fiery spirit, unstoppable—"

Lingling stared.

Then pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Orm, we are not raising a superhero."

Orm crossed her arms.

"You are so boring, babe."

Lingling exhaled aggressively.

"And you are out of control."

Lingling had officially had enough.

This was not a brainstorming session.

This was not a free-for-all where "Fish" and "Fire" were acceptable contributions.

This was a serious matter, requiring logic, elegance and organization.

So, naturally—

She did what she did best.

She made a PowerPoint.

As Orm reclined comfortably on the couch, sipping on her smoothie like this was pure entertainment, Lingling clicked open her laptop with purpose.

A large title slide appeared on the TV screen.

"A Strategic Approach to Naming Our Daughters™"

Orm squinted.

"Babe, did you seriously make a PowerPoint?"

Lingling gave her a look.

"Of course. Naming our daughters is an important decision. We need research, organization, and a structured approach."

Orm leaned back, arms crossed, fully amused.

"You run our household like a corporate empire."

Lingling shrugged.

"And you love it."

Orm exhaled dramatically.

"Unfortunately, yes."

Lingling smirked victoriously.

"Now, as I was saying—"

She clicked to the first slide.

A neatly formatted list appeared under the heading:

"Elegant, Traditional Names with Cultural Significance"

"Here are some elegant choices:" Lingling read aloud.

"Kanyarat, Thanchanok—"

Orm immediately made a face.

"Babe, these sound like they belong to queens from the old dynasty."

Lingling nodded approvingly.

"That's the point."

Orm grimaced.

"No. Next."

Lingling sighed but clicked to the next slide.

A new heading appeared:

"Modern, Meaningful, Yet Still Refined"

"Fine. I have a second list. More modern but still meaningful: Ploysinee, Pimnipa, Krittika—"

Orm scrunched her nose.

"Babe, they sound like beauty pageant winners."

Lingling blinked.

"That's the point."

Orm gasped dramatically.

"Lingling, our daughters are not competing in Miss Universe, they're babies."

"And yet," Lingling countered smoothly, "one day, they will be powerful women."

Orm huffed, shaking her head.

"One of them is literally going to be a chaos gremlin. I can feel it in my bones."

Lingling pinched the bridge of her nose, already regretting engaging in this battle.

"You are making this unnecessarily difficult."

Orm grinned.

"That's my job."

Just when Lingling thought the conversation couldn't get any worse—

The doorbell rang.

And standing there, radiating pure trouble, were Freen and Becky.

Lingling immediately regretted opening the door.

"Oh! You guys are deciding baby names?" Becky grinned, way too excited. "Perfect, we have ideas too."

Lingling took a deep breath, already exhausted.

"No."

"Yes." Freen ignored her completely and plopped down on the couch.

"Okay, so, hear us out: What if you name them after strong historical figures?"

Lingling, for the first time in hours, felt hope.

Finally.

Finally, someone reasonable.

She exhaled in relief.

"Finally. Someone who understands. Like Thao Suranari? Queen Sirikit?"

Freen grinned.

"No," she corrected. "Like Lisa and Lalisa."

Lingling blinked.

Orm wheezed.

Becky nodded enthusiastically.

"Oh my god, imagine! Little Nong Lisa and Nong Lalisa—absolute icons before they even take their first steps!"

Lingling shut her laptop.

"Absolutely not."

Freen laughed.

"Okay, okay, we have more."

Becky waved a hand dramatically.

"What about something truly iconic? Like Nong Prada and Nong Chanel?"

Lingling stared at them.

Just.

Stared.

"You two should not be allowed near important decisions."

Freen and Becky gasped, offended.

"We are literally future aunties! We have rights!"

"You have zero rights."

"Okay, fine," Becky huffed. "What about something cool? Something powerful? Something that says, 'I own this playground'?"

Lingling sighed, massaging her temples.

"I'm afraid to ask."

Freen clapped her hands together.

"Nong Thunder and Nong Lightning."

Silence.

Then—

"Becky," Lingling said, deadpan. "Get out of my house."

Orm was howling.

Freen was wheezing.

Becky, completely unbothered, just shrugged.

"Fine. But you'll regret rejecting these masterpiece names when your daughters are running the world."

Lingling rubbed her temples.

This was, without a doubt, the worst mistake of her life.

After hours.

HOURS of intense negotiations, unnecessary drama, and near-violent threats, the Great Baby Name War had reached a standstill.

Lingling's head throbbed.

Freen and Becky had been banished (temporarily—Lingling knew they'd sneak back in with more ridiculous suggestions at some point).

Orm had thrown out every chaotic name possible, including but not limited to:

Nong Kaiju ("Babe, it's powerful." "Babe, it's a literal city-destroying monster.") Nong Pikachu ("It's internationally known!" "It's internationally trademarked, Orm.") Nong Laserbeam (Lingling refused to dignify this with a response.) Nong Boss ("Because she will be a boss," Orm argued. "No," Lingling responded instantly.) Nong Rambo ("He's strong!" "HE'S NOT EVEN THAI, ORM—")

And yet—

They had made no real progress.

Until—

Orm sat up suddenly, eyes bright, grinning like she had just solved world hunger.

"Okay, so we each pick one name."

Lingling gave her a long, exhausted look.

"Go on."

"I pick for one twin, you pick for the other."

Lingling sighed deeply, pressing her fingers to her temples.

"Fine. But no food names."

"Fine."

"And nothing that sounds like a weather disaster."

"Rude, but okay."

"And it has to be elegant."

"Depends on your definition of elegant."

"Orm."

"Okay, okay! I promise I'll be reasonable."

Lingling was skeptical.

She narrowed her eyes, scanning her wife like she could see into her soul.

"Alright, then. You first."

Orm tapped her chin, pretending to be deep in thought.

Then—

Her face lit up.

"Sirilak."

Lingling blinked.

That was...

That was...

Actually—

"That's... actually beautiful."

Orm smirked smugly.

"See? I'm capable of class."

Lingling stared at her.

"Since when?"

"Rude."

Lingling, shaking her head in reluctant approval, sighed.

"Alright, then. I choose Norrawan."

Orm's grin widened.

"Sirilak and Norrawan."

She let the names roll off her tongue, testing them, nodding in satisfaction.

"I love it."

Lingling tilted her head.

"We actually agreed on something."

Orm smirked.

"A miracle, truly."

Lingling rubbed her temples.

"I'm going to need a vacation after this."

But before she could process her minor victory, Orm suddenly leaned closer, eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Or... we could go celebrate by making more babies."

Lingling froze.

Turned her head slowly.

Her expression?

Pure exhaustion.

"Our firstborns are not even born yet."

"Exactly," Orm winked. "Gotta plan ahead, right?"

Lingling picked up a pillow.

Orm saw it coming.

"ORM, I SWEAR—"

But before Lingling could launch her attack, Orm giggled and ran, narrowly dodging a very well-aimed pillow throw.

Lingling groaned, shaking her head, but despite her fake suffering, a small smile tugged at her lips.

Because, truly—

She wouldn't have it any other way.

With a sigh, she leaned back against the bed, resting her hand gently on her stomach.

"Sirilak and Norrawan," she murmured softly, testing the names again.

She smiled.

"I love you both already."

Orm, peeking back into the room, grinned.

"And you love me too, right?"

Lingling rolled her eyes fondly.

"Unfortunately, yes."

Orm laughed, bouncing back onto the bed and pulling Lingling into a tight hug.

"I love you too, babe."

Lingling sighed dramatically, but her arms wrapped around Orm just as tightly.

And just like that—

The Great Baby Name War finally came to an end.