Your Body is a Wonderland?

S is a people person, as they say.  He does not like to be alone.  EVER.  I am able to read his subtle personality traits:  he uses the bathroom with the door open, he brings his Legos to play directly at my feet, he insists on taking the dog or (stolen) cat with him to bed. 
S hates being alone.  He begs for his brother to play with him and bemoans the total lack of playmates on our street.  S needs a virtual twin.
E is not a people person.  E slinks off to his room whenever there's a lull in conversation--as in, no one is talking to him.  He reads alone in the playroom, he watches TV alone while the rest of us are doing other things.  E does not like to go bicycling around our block with S or playing in the same room as his parents.  He DEFINITELY closes the door to the bathroom now.  Especially at bath time.  E is not having it.
Of course, nothing brings an 'independent' child like E to his knees faster than a thunderstorm.  At six this morning, an tremendous clap of thunder shook the house, and faster than I could roll over and say, "here come the kids," the kids come storming into the bedroom, diving into the bed.
Thunderstorms really don't bring out the best and the bravest around here.  By the time the kids were all snuggled in to my bed, the dog was whimpering and shivering as well.  He really hasn't been the same since I took him with me once through the car wash, but that's a different tale of woe and crazy. 
Five little faces, some furrier and more awake and frightened than others peeked out over the top of the blanket this morning.  S huddled close, and tried his best to reassure the pup, and E prattled on because he has a nervous diarrhea of the mouth.  As he tries to put on his brave face, he won't stop talking.
After the storm bed-huddle, S moves on to  his usual routine:  he gathers up his uniform from the cubbies, and brings that and his blankie downstairs to dress in the kitchen with me and the dog and sometimes, the (stolen) cat. He pulls off his jammies, and sits down on the floor nude to pull on his undies.  For those of you who visit my house--I mop often, and forbid the use of furniture while nude.  The cat ambles on over to say good morning.
"Hey cat, are you comin' over to look at my privates?"
Cat makes an abrupt U-turn.  Seriously,  like he understood and wanted no part of it.
"It's okay, Cat.  My body is a museum."
S stands and makes the Superman pose.
Sometimes I wonder about these kids.