However since my parents died, I must admit to appreciating the significance a little bit more.
Nevertheless, time wearies our ovaries, and being on the other side of 40 years old, I had pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I would probably never name a child after my ancestors.
Then it happened.
But not in the way I thought it would.
Because yesterday, you see, the boys decided they wanted to name our newest Cria (baby Alpaca) after my Dad.
Now, lest you see this as irreverent or disrespectful, I should probably tell you a little bit about my Dad.
He had a great sense of humour, and a natural sense of wonder that would have made him very interested in these funny little creatures who have entered our life.
Alpacas even remind me a bit of him. Spindly legs, curious eyes, and a cheeky demeanour that makes you laugh out loud, even whilst it is driving you crazy.
Of course, there are also many differences. My Dad never spat on my husband like our Alpacas have.
(Although to be fair, My husband never held my Dad down to have him shorn, so it may not be a fair comparison.)
On reflection, I don't think Dad would mind at all. In fact, I think he would be quite chuffed to know that his memory lives on in this little guy.
And so without further ado, I introduce you to Mike.
I think you'll like him.