"I hate my name, too," offered four-year-old Marsha, who until that moment had never thought about her name."No, you don't." Mom. "It's a lovely name.""Is not." But in fact, like most people, she had no particular feelings about her name - her first name, anyhow - but simply accepted it as hers.
2005, John Barth, Where Three Roads Meet: Novellas, page 83