The ones worth asking first.

No. It's an AI, and we'd rather say so on the first line than have you work it out three messages in.

What it's good at happens to be most of what this particular job needs. It knows where names come from and how they've travelled. It has read more of them than any one person could. It never tires of the question, never has a favourite it's quietly pushing, and it is awake at three in the morning — which, if you have been pregnant, you will recognise as when the question actually arrives.

What it is not is a human expert with taste, instinct and a reputation on the line. If that's what you want, that is a genuinely different purchase.

The best-known ones start around $1,500 and rise steeply from there — one has named several hundred babies and describes a good part of the work as helping two people stop disagreeing.

That is a real service and worth every penny to the people who buy it. It is also out of reach for almost everyone, which is the gap this sits in: $59 to $159, for the same underlying structure — better questions than you'd think to ask, a shortlist two people can actually converge on, and something to keep at the end.

Yes. And you'll get good names out of it — ideas were never the scarce thing, and anyone telling you otherwise is selling a list.

Then what, though. They live in a chat window on one of your phones. Your partner never sees half of them. When your aunt texts three suggestions there is nowhere to put them, so they sit in a message thread being slowly lost. And when you finally agree on something in month seven, the moment where one of you said why is four hundred messages back and gone.

This is the other half. A place you can both see, where a name can be rated, quietly argued with, and set aside without anyone having to say it out loud. A link that sends everyone else's opinions somewhere useful instead of across a table at a shower. And a page at the end that remembers the reasoning — which is the first thing to fade and the thing you'll most want later.

The consultant is the easy part. The organising is the part you actually needed.

Good at: where a name comes from and what it has meant; how it sounds against your surname; the things you'd want quietly flagged before you commit — initials that spell something, a rhyme you hadn't heard, a spelling you'd be correcting forever. Good, too, at holding both of your stated preferences at once and finding the overlap.

Not good at: taste. It does not know your family, your history or what you'll feel the first time you say the name out loud in a hospital corridor. It will not tell you that you are wrong, and it cannot promise you'll love the result. The deciding stays yours — that is rather the point of it.

The two of you, and nobody else. Ratings and vetoes are visible to each other — that is what makes it a conversation rather than two private lists — but nothing leaves the room.

The suggestion link you share works one way: family and friends can put a name in and say why, and they never see what you thought of it.

No. You pay once. Nothing renews, there is nothing to cancel, and no card is kept on file waiting for a date months from now. Naming ends, and so should the charging.

If you need longer, you can add more time whenever you like — from where your window currently ends, so buying early never costs you the time you already paid for.

Everything you wrote stays, and stays readable — the shortlist, the conversation, the keepsake. What stops is adding to it: no new names, ratings or notes until you extend.

Nothing is deleted, and nothing is held hostage.

Then the useful part is the end rather than the middle. Put the name in, write down why you chose it while you still remember exactly, and keep the page. That story is the thing that fades first — and the thing you'll most want later.

Fourteen days from purchase, for any reason — no form and no phone call.

Boxes are refundable until they're posted. The one thing that isn't is a personalised keepsake once it's been made, because it has their name on it. The whole policy is a short read.

Two cards. One in your own words, carrying the link that opens their journey. One for the gift table, which guests can scan to leave a name and the reason behind it.

Any keepsake you add — an engraved rattle, an embroidered blanket, a framed print — is made after they've settled on the name, and sent on to them directly. It cannot be made before there is a name to put on it.