Our five-year-old nephew, Walker, spoke those prophetic words two years ago when we announced that our second child is a boy. Jon and I are certain that as soon as Walker spoke those words, Nate's personality was instantly formed while still in the womb. He kicked harder while I was pregnant and he could scream louder, ear-piercingly louder, than any infant I have ever heard. Now at nearly six months away from turning two, Nate growls, squeals, climbs, tumbles and rumbles like a rough & tough wild little boy. He loves trucks, especially when they crash. A day spent away from his train table is agony for him, seriously. We've quoted Walker on many occassions, describing Nate as our little wild one.
His hands have been busy since he was three months old. He is drawn to cars and balls, and loves loud noises and the aisle of boys' toys at a store. (While Mae on the other hand, refuses to walk down the boys' toy aisle. She's says matter-of-fact, "It's scary, Mommy. That one's for boys."
However, he is the most cuddly little wild thing with which I've ever snuggled. His screams and growls can be snuffed out by his beloved blanket and pacifier. He'll pause in the middle of a playful mess and reach out for a hug and a kiss. He'll back up into my lap as he pulls a dump truck, just to be held and hugged for a brief moment. He's my Nate, my "all-boy" little boy who loves his mama so.
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