My Brother's First Word Was Gigi
For six months, Imani had waited for the new baby to say something. She hoped, quietly and fiercely, that his first word would be her name.
Everyone in the house had a theory. Dad was sure it would be "Dada," because Dad said it to the baby forty times a day. Mom thought it would be "more," since the baby loved food. Imani just practiced. She sat beside the baby's blanket and said, "Ee-ma-nee. Ee-ma-nee," until her throat felt dry.
One morning, the baby was waving a spoon around when he looked straight at Imani and shouted, "Gigi!"
Imani froze. "That isn't my name," she said.
"It might be," said Mom. "Babies can't say everything yet. Say it again, sweetheart."
"Gigi!" he said, pointing at Imani and bouncing in his chair.
Dad was laughing so hard that he had to put down his coffee. Imani felt her disappointment loosen, like a knot coming undone. The baby did not know the word for sister yet. He had made up his own, and it was meant for her.
By the end of the week, the whole family called her Gigi. The baby learned to say "Dada" at last, and "more" by the next month, but Imani's name stayed Gigi in that house for years.