Charis bursts onto the scene like a sun-kissed breeze over the Aegean, her name lifted straight from the Greek word for “grace” and the radiant Charites—those three giggling goddesses who kept Olympus awash in beauty. Think of her as pura gratia, the Latin whisper that means “pure grace,” with a melody that rolls off the tongue as KARE-is in English or the soft HAH-ris in Greek. She carries a pocketful of sparkling images: twirling ballerinas, olive-tree crowns, and birthday candles that refuse to blow out because life just loves her back. History shows Charis never hogged the spotlight—she flits around the lower ranks of U.S. charts like a hummingbird sampling flowers—yet that very rarity is her secret salsa. Parents who choose Charis tuck a timeless virtue into their baby’s passport, stamped with ancient myth, sprinkled with Roman flair, and sealed with a wink that says, “Watch this little one turn everyday moments into golden confetti.”
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