Some children are meant to have dogs, and some dogs are meant to have kids, Lawson falls in to the latter category.  He was always meant to be with those he sees as needing him and regardless of often argued diatribes about working dogs and such; some dogs just have a sense of what they need to do when they have kids. I speak from the heart and from the knowledge that since Lawson arrived home with us in early December I have noted a remarkable change in the behaviours and speech patterns of our middle child.
From day one, when Lawson was taken on a "tour" of his backyard and its surround by this same child: I watched in awe as he spoke clearly and almost coherently telling Lawson the names of all the things about the yard.  Lawson trotted along behind, diligently; as if he was always meant to be there. I have watched them sit for hours on the grass in the shade, Lawson having his ears, nose, feet and tummy inspected and dutifully enduring it, our son naming the body parts. Talking to Lawson and him responding in kind with licks to the face when it seemed appropriate. I have oft found Lawson in the boys' bedroom, playing with a sock or such whilst they played cars with Lawson as a bridge.  He has worn hats with aplomb, had his teeth looked at more times than I care to think of and all by his own determination.  I would stop the kids from unusual or frightening actions, if I thought Lawson would be affected but sometimes a hat appeared upon him or socks upon his feet. (He must have sat still for it and felt it was ok as when he was wearing sock or a hat he trotted about as if he thought he should wear such attire every day).
Both of them lay and watch clouds float by; Lawson has taken to rolling on his back too. When they are all in the yard playing,
Lawson follows the middle child, ALWAYS and EVERYTIME.  When we arrive home from school, he seeks out the same child to greet, he jumps up to me and the eldest, bowls over the youngest but sits at the feet, on command, of the one he understands.
Now at seven months, Lawson is big and robust; he has adult teeth, the colours of his heritage, eyes of yellow and brown; alert
and unwavering.  He chews on a bone upon the verandah with our son beside him, telling him about Letterland and what he did in school today, his arm draped over the dogs back.  Our son lays his head beside Lawson's and Lawson licks his ear and I know that some dogs are meant to have kids for a reason.