He is my snuggler. Every day before naptime and every night before bedtime, he comes up to me and says "Need snuggle in rockin' chair, Mommy." We get our snugs in, and then he's out like a light.
He is all BOY. Trains, cars, trucks (oh, the trucks), dirt, jumping, kicking, hitting, yelling, sticks, snails and puppy dog tails - that is what my Bubba is made of.
He adores his sisters. He thinks Tot created the Earth and everything in it and would thus follow her to the ends of it. He thinks Baby Allison is the most precious thing in the world, even though she is still in my belly, and asks every day to "See Baby Awison" and talk to her through my belly button. He tells her to come out soon and that he loves her.
He eats. The boy EATS. I have never in my life seen a small child eat as much as this kid. It is in no way unusual for him to eat three adult sized bowls of Oatmeal for breakfast and then to ask for an extra glass of milk because " I starvin' Mama".
He wants to be just like his daddy. He follows Dave around the house no matter what and loves to be helping him to manly things. They change the oil in the cars, they chop wood, they wittle with their pocket knives, and they take care of the girls.
He has no interest in performing. Unlike his sister, who is destined for the stage, this guy won't do anything if there is an audience, including me. I say "Bubba, can you sing me your ABC's?" and he always says "No, tanks." "Let's count to 20!" "No, tanks." "What color is this?" "No, tanks."
He is one tough cookie. He falls and puts his teeth through his lip? No biggie. He falls and cuts his head and has to get a staple put in? Whatever. Time to pull the staple out? Bring it. With all of these instances he cried less than 10 seconds each. All he needs is an acknowledgment that he got hurt and then he's fine, no matter how serious the injury. It's nice that he's not a weenie, but at the same time it's a little unnerving knowing he has a higher pain tolerance than I do.
When he sees anyone wearing University of Texas gear, he throws up the Longhorn sign and yells "HOOK EM!!"
He can entertain himself. As long as I have given him plenty of one-on-one snuggles and attention, then he is off to the races. He needs no one to plan anything, no direction, no help, no nothing. Give him a box of cars and he'll play by himself contentedly for hours and hours. If you add in some trains or action figures you won't see him until it's time to eat. But beware, if you haven't filled up that Snuggle Tank full enough, you can't pry him off your body with a crow bar. Kid needs his snuggles.
He is Dave's smaller identical twin, but with my butt-chin :)