The Bruiser, though he really isn't.

I don't know how my son came to be called "The Bruiser". It could be because of his rough-and-tumble boyish ways, much different than his dainty older sister.

His toddlerhood was a complete blur to me because his younger sister was born when he wasn't quite 2 years old yet. This is something I started to feel sad about since the day I found out I was pregnant again, for I was already stretched pretty thin as a mom-of-two. How in the world was I going to find one-on-one time with him, when there was going to be a third baby... and he was still a baby himself?

Somehow we figured it out, though my mom was with us for almost two years, thankfully. Still, I was the "go to" parent always, even when other people were around, and I never felt like I was giving enough to each child. Still don't.

This could be why my younger two kids are so much more independent. I don't have to struggle with turning the tv off, or bribe them to eat different food. I feel like I can hover over them far less and they are perfectly fine doing whatever, whether it's doodling, or taking a bubble bath, or playing with Lego's.

The one thing I have to keep in mind is that boys are completely, totally different that girls. My oldest would do just about everything on cue: sing her ABCs, touch her nose, give hugs and kisses in exchange for chocolate. And most of the time the youngest would do the same.

But the Bruiser has always been different. Even now he might give you a kiss, but he'd turn his head the very last second so you always get his cheek. And if you ask him what colors his Legos are, he will tell you that red is blue, blue is yellow, yellow is black... all with a mischievous smile on his face. He knows his colors because he will specifically ask for the red and yellow pair of Power Ranger pjs when he can't find them in his dresser drawer. And of course, there is that odd obsession with coloring with the Black Crayon, after testing out the other crayons on paper. "No, this is blue, this is purple, this is green... where is the black one?"

The worst thing you can possibly do is compare one sibling to the next. I dare not say that one child is smarter than the other, for I really don't know that. I never saw the Princess put together space ships made of Lego's, yet the Bruiser does this all the time, each perfectly symmetrical, with his armada lined in a row ready for take off. Meanwhile, the Baby tends to the cat, making sure she has spoons in both of her bowls so she can eat (that is her way of cooking, she says).

Last night, after having a very long and tiring day, dealing with the three kids gone wild on chocolate and candy hearts, I was so relieved to finally bid them goodnight. The Bruiser was taking a while to settle down. I could hear his heavy feet running around his room. He was excited about our upcoming weekend it turns out, and probably even more excited about all the candy we have in our house.

As I stood up to leave after tucking him back into bed, he said, "Mommy, I love you." And I hesitated a moment to be sure I heard him correctly. And he really did, without me saying it first.