Tractors, o tractors

I have to give my child credit, as much grief as he gives me, he is truly a unique soul and beats to his own drum. I hope he never looses that. Conformity can strip people of their natural, God given abilities. With that note, if there was ever a child who could be a spokesperson for John Deere, it would be him.

Exibit A:

Every time he goes to the bathroom (I mean EVERY time) he has to stop what he's doing, gather whatever tractors he thinks need to watch him go potty, and he will strategically place them on the counter. This goes for bath time as well. If Justin or I place them for him, it isn't right and he corrects their position to his preference.

Exibit B
When it's time to eat, he picks a tractor (or 5) and has to a) position it just right and b) feed it. Every. Single. Time.

Exibit C (notice the fork) When it's time to go to bed, it's a huge ordeal to decide which tractors to take to bed with him. We've tried fighting this battle but after hours of crying, we just let him take a few to bed. If he comes to bed with us during the middle of the night, the tractors come too. Each night he takes a different tractor and goes back and forth on which are his favorites. He'd been asleep for awhile so I was brave and attempted a pic.

Exibit D

Oh, Carson....