He's a big brother and a little brother. He's my sweet, Mommy's cuddle bug and New Daddy's squealing wrestling partner. He's also a little booger who likes to get reactions from people. He's a Mr. Command in a small body. No one brooks Bubby without an "intense discussion."
Bubby's latest occupation is figuring out sums on his hands. He tells elaborate stories. He lines up his Noah's animals, and then lays half of them down; they died. He still remembers everyone's names who he meets, wants to know how they're related to everyone else. And then, he remembers and uses the information later in conversation. "Sis. Somebody, your husband wears his glasses this way," when he's probably never talked to the man before.
Bubby tells everyone that we're going to have a farm with goats, horses and pigs. And chickens, of course. They look at me in confusion. I explain that we've talked about it, but of course, our neighbors would be very unhappy. Plus that, we don't have enough land. But, Bubby is undeterred. We will have that farm, and he doesn't mind a positive confession.
Bubby was born just before the Labor Day Meetings that we go to every year. I recovered so quickly after his birth, that two days later we drove to the meetings. There, I went through the prayer line for an informal dedication from Bro. Billy Paul. I remember his words, "... this little love gift that you've placed in her heart..." as he asked God to bless our son. There was a wonderful anointing.
We keep guessing at what Bubby will do for a living. We think he'd be a great engineer or accountant because of the way he orders and analyzes things. We think he'd love farming, because he loves animals. Whatever he does, he'll be successful. No doubt, he'll have fun with it, too.
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