...the most formidable was a burly, roaring, roystering blade, of the name of Abraham, or, according to the Dutch abbreviation, Brom Van Brunt, the hero of the country round, which rang with his feats of strength and hardihood. He was broad-shouldered and double-jointed [snip] and a bluff but not unpleasant countenance, having a mingled air of fun and arrogance. From his Herculean frame and great powers of limb he had received the nickname of BROM BONES, by which he was universally known. He was famed for great knowledge and skill in horsemanship, being as dexterous on horseback as a Tartar. He was foremost at all races and cock fights [!]; and, with the ascendancy which bodily strength always acquires in rustic life, was the umpire in all disputes, setting his hat on one side, and giving his decisions with an air and tone that admitted of no gainsay or appeal. He was always ready for either a fight or a frolic; but had more mischief than ill-will in his composition; and with all his overbearing roughness, there was a strong dash of waggish good humor at bottom.Having read to that exact point Cookie interrupted me to exclaim: "Hey, that sounds like me!" Oh crap, I thought, my boy has an ego problem worse than mine. "Kid, you're a wreck," is all I told him as I snapped the book shut and called it a night. He and Mojo laughed.
In any event, it's interesting to get an insight into a six-year-old's self-image. Perhaps as I get his breakfast this morning I will address him as Bram Bones. Tell him we'll be riding to school today on horseback. With the Tartars.