The first time I met him, he set his hair on fire. As time has passed, accounts differ as to how high the flames leapt, whether or not this was an intentional bid for my attention, and what-(ahem)-may or may not have been being lit.
He loves little walleyed Boston Terriers to distraction, and with sincere apologies to Bob the Ravelry dog, I do not. (To explain: His beloved Nannie down in Georgia has owned several, named Miss Penelope, Miss Matilda, JEB Stuart, Yankee, and Maude.) He promises that if I go first, he will fill the house with them and name them all Julie.
He pronounces everything I cook (when I cook, which is rare as he has taken charge of dinner so that I can sit and knit after the Biscuit goes to bed) "the best thing I've ever eaten." Even if it's spaghetti with sawdust-in-a-tube cheese on it. However, he did, as a single guy, used to eat baked beans from the can with some BBQ sauce thrown on top, so most anything's an improvement.
It is nearly impossible to get him to pose for photos, because he feels he needs to pantomime doing something for the camera. Like carving a turkey. Or being blown sideways by gale-force winds. (Trust me: you don't want to see the outtakes. Okay you do, but you don't get to.)
I love him, I do. So even though my hospital bag's not packed, and the crib's still not assembled, and the Biscuit's baby book taunts me from the box on the dining room table, how could I not knit him this sweater?
(Cobblestone by Jared Flood from the latest Interweave, second size knit up in Classic Elite Skye Tweed in "Dungeon" with nary a modification. More details can be found on Ravelry here or just ask!)