Did you catch me this week on the morning radio show on the Australian Broadcasting Corporation?
No? Oh, maybe I should have told you about it. But after two posts on my very brief “Good Morning America” fame, I thought you might think I’m some kind of shameless, self-promoting media whore.
Anyway, a producer at ABC radio in Australia contacted me because they liked my Washington Post piece on changing Summer’s name and they wanted me to take part in a lighthearted discussion about names.
I was a little hesitant given the nasty reaction from some of the Post’s readers. I didn’t need the Australians calling me a knitwit or the the down under equivalent, a whacker.
But everyone assured me that Australians are sweet as Tim Tams.
So at 11:30 pm (morning in Australia), the producer calls me and tells me to stand by and puts me on hold.
I immediately need to pee. Really badly. But I’m too terrified to go to the bathroom because what if they suddenly take me live and Australians from Sydney to Perth hear me tinkling on the air. So I cross my legs and wait.
Hosts Geoff Hutchison and Nick Bruining come on soon after and we start talking about names.
“So where did you get the name Summer?” they ask.
“Well, I first heard the name on “The O.C.” and just loved it. The show is canceled now. Have you ever seen it?” I reply.
“Oh yes, we get “The O.C..” So what show do you watch now?” one of the hosts asks.
“Well, I love “Gossip Girl,” I admit.
“Are you going to change Summer’s name to “xo xo?” asks Nick Bruining.
“I’m definitely considering it,” I reply laughing.
They insist that it must be impossible to reprimand a child named Summer because there is no way to say “Summer” with any kind of authority.
So they have me pretend to yell, “SUMMER, I am really angry with you!”
Nope, sounds too nice. They tell me to try again.
So I yell, “SUMMER! Come here right now!”
Still sounds too sweet and well, summery.
All in all, my debut on Australian radio was a success. Except that I forgot to mention that I have this blog called The Mama Bird Diaries. The hosts were so funny and endearing. And not once did someone call me a knitwit. Or even a whacker.