A few months back, the boys and I decided that whenever a person at a restaurant asked for our name, we would say “Voldemort.”

That way, we would get to hear them shout out things like “Voldemort, your table’s ready” and “order for Voldemort.”

For those who don’t know, Lord Voldemort is the name of the Big Bad Guy in the Harry Potter books. One of the details of those books is that no one says Voldemort’s name. Instead, they call him “He Who Must Not Be Named.”

The idea of having his name shouted in restaurants is pretty killer.

Unfortunately, it hasn’t happened yet. Something has always come up to prevent them from saying Voldemort. The best we’ve had happen was a receipt that said “Voldemort” across the top. We’ve elicited some weird looks, and the occasional silly grin, but that’s about it.

Last weekend, the whole thing got weirder.

I gave our name as Voldemort to the host at a Bob Evans restaurant He looked to be in his late teens, and very sincere.

“How do you spell that?” he asked.

The boys and I glanced at each other. “V – O – L,” I started.

He sighed with frustration. “How about a first name?” he asked.

“Um,” I said. “Nicholas?”

“Okay.” He scribbled down the name.

As soon as we got a polite distance away, my kids let their giggles out. “Does he really think your name is Nicholas Voldemort?” my youngest asked.

“I guess,” I said.

“You should have said your first name was lord,” my oldest said. “You know, like lord Voldemort.”

Now that would have been a great idea.