"Sam the Cowboy"

Sam.

Currently obsessed with cowboys.

Refers to himself as "Sam the Cowboy."

"Sam the Cowboy" is meticulously dressed in jeans, boots, belt with a large buckle, button down shirt, bandanna tied around his neck at the exact length he sees fit, cowboy hat and either a rifle or pistol loaded with caps.

Asks over and over "Does Sam the Cowboy...?" as if he is an entirely different person and he is learning things about him through whomever will answer his never ending questions.

Cried yesterday at preschool because he thought he was the only kid in his class that couldn't write their full name.

Will practice his writing at home for minutes before becoming frustrated and stomping off, mumbling something about letters and dots under his breath.

Sam plus mountain dew equals a rat on acid and a long evening for his Mama. Anyone who loves me or cares about my sanity will never, ever give him the dew again. Ever.

Tells me he misses me when we're apart. I love this about him.

Obsessive about his appearance. Loves looking at himself. We catch him staring at his reflection in the french doors in the kitchen all the time.

Loves to pray.

My harshest critic.

Watches "King of the Hill" every night with his Daddy. He refers to it as "the show where the men stand on the street and drink beer" and he can do an awesome Boomhauer impression. Let it be known that I do not approve.

Tells me "You're the best Mama, ever" when I let him snack before bed or load his pockets with caps. He will even ask me, "Okay, do you want to be the best Mama or not?" before asking me for something. Little stinker.

Tender hearted and kind. Hates to disappoint people.

A worrier which, in turn, worries his Mama.

Wonderful to Will.

Can have the world's biggest meltdown over the craziest things. Like thinking someone can see his "ninnie pies" through the small opening between the buttons of his shirt. Seriously.

Loves to sneak up on me and scare me and recently discovered that wearing his Davy Crockett moccasins are the quietest way to walk through the house undetected.

Looks after Jack at preschool and wants to eat lunch with him every day. This makes me so proud and so, so happy.

Asked me the other day after inspecting my eyelashes, "Mama, how did you end up in this family when you have such short eyelashes?" To which I informed him that: 1. I can't help the length of my lashes. 2. Yes, I realize I am the only one in our family with stubby lashes. 3. Just because his lashes are so great doesn't mean he has to make others, like myself, feel inferior. Thank you very much.

Asks me all the time when he will be old enough to have a real gun. Lord, help me.

Never fails to tell me that he loves me.

My sunshine. Always my sunshine.