Shakespeare wrote "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

My children have learned this lesson early in their lives, as we recently purchased four fish and they had the dubious task of naming each of them.

With two children younger than 5 years old, the first fish was the easiest to name. "Nemo" came flying out of both kids' mouths faster than "Dad, he hit me" does during the day when the two of them fight.

For those of you without children or if you have been living under a rock for 10 years, Nemo is a cute little fish created by those children-loving-but-eager-to-take-my-money-animators from Pixar and Disney.

For my children to name a fish Nemo is like me naming a cat Sylvester or Garfield. It's that obvious.

Fish number two was a little more difficult.

Another goldfish, and according to my daughter, Nemo's mommy, this fish was slightly smaller than Nemo. I tried to throw out some great names, like "Brett Favre" and "Squirt." Neither name drew a reaction.

Then my son barked out his favorite household toy, "Garage," and everyone laughed at the silliness. But the name stuck. We now have a fish named "Garage."

My genealogically wise daughter stepped to the plate again and announced that our third fish, a black hybrid type fish that plays nicely with other fish, was Nemo's sister.

Without hesitation, she blurted out "Jaws."

No one laughed, but instead, we simply stared at the soon-to-be 3-year-old, silently wondering how she knew about the most feared animal to swim across the movie screen in history.

Did she happen to read Peter Benchley's novel in the evening when we tucked her into bed instead of "Sesame Street" and the "Baby Einstein" series that is supposed to increase her vocabulary?

Let's hope not. The last thing this child needs is assistance on her vocabulary.

"Jaws is cool, daddy," she quipped while watching the fish dart in and out of artificial plants and trees, eager to find Nemo and Garage.

"That's fine," I said. "What are we gonna' name that thing?"

"The Thing, daddy." It was the 3-year-old voice of reason again.

A black, white, gold and silver fish should be named "The Thing." How could I have been so clueless about these types of situations?

The fish looks like an abstract painting, although I am not sure what the Creator was trying to say with this thing. The name was perfect.

Feeding time around the four makes me understand the term "feeding frenzy."

I let each child take a tiny bit in the palm of their hand and brush it into the water.

Naturally, Jaws comes to the surface like a missile that has been launched from a nuclear submarine, while Nemo and The Thing eat what drops through the cracks. Garage seems to get the leftovers, so maybe he should have been named Garbage instead.

We've had the fish for about two weeks now and they exist in a 30-gallon aquarium in my home office.

Most professionals will tell you that an aquarium, and fish in general, are soothing and relaxing. As a result, many people use them to calm their nerves or relax their minds.

Sure, that works on me, too. But there is more to the story.

No matter how bad the day is going, or has been, the fish make me stop and smile. Not because they hold special soothing power, but because each of them is special to my children. In turn, that makes the fish special to me.

What's in a name? I'll tell you what's in a name. Cherished memories of a special day that make these fish much more than just goldfish.