We decide it over wine on a Tuesday evening.
Priya is on our couch, shoes off, laptop open, a glass in her hand and the specific focused energy of someone who has been thinking about this since Saoirse said something with clarity in it and has arrived with opinions.
Rhys is in the kitchen doing something that smells extraordinary and pretending not to listen which means he is listening completely.
Arlo is on Priya's feet because Arlo has decided Priya belongs to him now and Priya has stopped pretending she minds.
"It cannot be our names," Priya points out. "Too small. Names say who we are, not what we do."
"Agreed," I say.
"It cannot be abstract," she adds. "No geometric shapes or colours pretending to be a philosophy."
"Agreed," I say.
"Saoirse said clarity," she
