I have a pretty large bubble—the amount of personal space I need around me. Strangers and folks with whom I'm not intimate best stay at arm's length or I get crabby, uncomfortable, anxious.

Folks I love the very most are welcome to enter my bubble any time they want, of course...as long as they don't dwell there too long.

Indeed, I need my space.

Bubby, on the other hand, has not yet learned about bubbles, doesn't understand the concept of personal space. Especially when it comes to his brother, whom he loves so, so much that time and—especially—space know no bounds.

To wit:

Bubby will eventually figure it out. Especially considering how often Mom and Dad—even Gramma—gently remind the enamored big brother that "Baby Mac needs some space."

Despite concerns about rendering Baby Mac claustrophobic at times, I adore the unabashed, in-your-face loving Bubby offers his brother. Such things are short lived and it surely won't be long before the "Mom, he's touching me!" complaints start up between the brothers.

From the looks of things, though, I'm pretty sure Baby Mac will be the one to first utter the refrain.

Which means Bubby's bubble-bursting privileges will remain intact for at least another year or two—about the time it will take before Baby Mac will be able to put into coherent words such pleas for intervention.

Today's question:

How big is your bubble?