Cheaper by the Dozen

Tom was in pajamas, having been routed from his bed, most of the island knew about Bob's birth. Once again, it was a case of the baby and the doctor arriving simultaneously.
    By that time, all the family names for boys had been exhausted. The names of all the uncles, both grandfathers, and the four great grandfathers had been used. Great uncles were being resurrected from the family Bible and studied carefully.
    "Now let's run over the names of the Bunker men again," Dad said, referring to Grandma Gilbreth's brothers. "Samuel? Never could tolerate that name. Nathaniel? Too bookish. Frederick? We got one already. Humphrey? Ugh. Daniel? We got one. Nothing there."
    "How about the middle names?" Mother suggested. "Maybe we'll get an idea from the Bunkers' middle names."
    "All right. Moses? Too bullrushy. William? We got one. Abraham? They'd call him Abie. Irving? Over my dead body, which would be quite a climb."
    "What was your father's name again?" Mother asked.
    "John," said Dad. "We got one."
    "No, I know that. I mean his middle name."
    "You know what it was," said Dad. "We're not having any."
    "Oh, that's right," Mother giggled. "Hiram, wasn't it?" Dad started thumbing impatiently through the Bible. "Jacob? No. Saul? Job, Noah, David? Too sissy. Peter? Paul? John? We got one."
    "Robert," Mother said. "That's it. We'll call him Robert."
    "Why Robert? Who's named Robert?" Dad looked over the top of his glasses at Mother, and she reddened.
    "No one in particular. It's just a beautiful name, that's all. This one will be Robert."
    Dad started to tease. "I knew you had a strange collection of beaux during your college days, but which one was Robert? I don't believe I remember your mentioning him. Was he the one whose picture you had with the blazer and mandolin? Or was he the one your sisters told me about who stuttered?"
    "Stop it, Frank," said Mother. "You know that's ridiculous."
    We took our cue from Dad. "Oh, Mother, Rob-bert is such . a beautiful name. Why didn't you name me Rob-bert? May I carry your books home from college, Lillie, dear? Why Rob-bert, you do say the nicest things. And so clever, too."
    Dad, who knew that Mother's favorite poet was Browning and suspected where the Robert came from, nevertheless bunched the fingers of his right hand, kissed their tips, and threw his hand into the air.
    "Ah, Robert," he intoned, "if I could but taste the nectar of thy lips."
    "When you're all quite through," Mother said coldly, "I suggest we have a vote on the name I have proposed. And when it comes to discussing old flames, it might be borne in mind that that is a game two can play. I recall..."
    "We wouldn't think of blighting any school girl romance, would we, kids?" Dad put in hastily. "What do you say we make it 'Robert' unanimously?"
    We voted and it was unanimous.
    Bob, Number Eleven, made the count six boys and five girls. There was considerable partisanship among the family as to the desired sex of the next baby. The boys wanted to remain in the majority; the girls wanted to tie the count at six-all. Dad, of course, wanted another boy. Mother wanted to please Dad, but at the same time thought it would be nice to have a girl for her last child.
    Number Twelve was due in June, 1922, and that meant we would be in Nantucket. Mother had vowed she wasn't going to have another baby in our summer house, because the facilities were so primitive. For a time, she debated whether to remain behind at Montclair and have the baby at home there, or whether to go to Nantucket with us and have the baby in a hospital. Finally, with some foreboding because of her previous experience in Providence, she chose the latter alternative. Jane, Number Twelve, was born in the Nantucket Cottage Hospital.
    Mother's ten days in the hospital were pure misery for Dad. He fidgeted and sulked, and said he couldn't get any work done without her. Dad's business trips to Europe sometimes kept him away from home for months, but then he was on the go and in a different environment. Now, at home with the family where he was accustomed to have Mother at his side, he felt frustrated, and seized every opportunity to go down to the hospital and visit.
    His excuse to us, when we complained we were being neglected, was that he had to get acquainted with his new daughter.
    "I won't be gone long," he'd say. "Anne, you're in charge while I'm away." He'd jump into the car and we wouldn't see him again for hours.
    He had never taken such care with his dress.