How softly you tiptoed into my world, so silently, only a moment you stayed, but what an imprint your footsteps have left upon my heart.

His clothes must be in the hamper before he goes to bed.
He must have clean hands at all times.
The ketchup cannot touch his french fries on the plate.
The most telling symptom:

His cars must be in a straight line. He calls it a choo-choo.

He gets his OCD honestly. His momma and dada are both OCD. And we are OK with that.

I thought I would share some picture with you.

He loves his momma.

He is my little model.

I promise, he has a bed.