Achtung!

My grandmother can't pronounce my daughter's name.  Grandma is 83 and sharp as a tack.  We call her Omi.  She's a tall, German spitfire with no qualms about sharing her caustic opinions.  Her diagnosis of the financial crisis is "That's because of all those shitasses over there."  "Over there" being the White House.  So this is Omi.  Cross her and you'll know about it really quickly.

I call Omi to tell her about my daughter's birth.  The conversation, a veritable "Who's on first?" goes like this:

Me: Her name is Sienna.
Omi (German accent): Siahna.
Me: See-enna
Omi: Siahna.
Me: See-ENNA.
Omi: Oh, See-AI-na.
Me: No, Si-enna!
Omi: Oh crap, couldn't you pick a better name?  It's unusual, you know.

So the verdict is in, Omi dislikes the name.  We kept LO's name a secret between us until she was born to avoid this very reaction.  The "Oh, isn't that nice" when what people really want to say is they don't like it.  (How did Gwyneth get away with Apple anyway?)  My parents always told me the that when I was born, my grandmother lobbied quite hard for me to have a name she approved of.  I was almost an Agatha.  Maybe she feels I should've named LO something more Germanic.

Now LO is 9 months old and I call Omi with an update.  I tell her LO is crawling and standing up now.  "Aw, that Siahna is so cute," Omi coos.  I just say yes and go with it.