His core sense of being makes an appearance as basic physical slothfulness – a roly-poly shape, pot belly in evidence, accented by a disheveled or minimalist hairstyle. He often has a growth of five-o’clock facial moss which acts as an inaccurate but perpetual sundial of ingrown masculinity.
The clothing ranges from shabby to neat, but expresses itself from a strict menu of t-shirts (with snide and clever illustrations or geeky retro references on them), jeans, and tennis shoes. This shapeless uniform is the footed pajama set of the Toddler Man.
Any engagements outside of this small world must involve stimulation of the ego or quick satisfaction; otherwise he cannot bring himself to make the effort to leave his “crib” of submissive self-importance. There is safety in being the only one in the winner’s circle.
As he grows older he will become even more attached to and crawl further into his little “womb” of coddled protection. Sadly, some of the more crude attributes of “Toddlerism” are now associated with “being a guy”, and are now encouraged and celebrated by men as a whole.
Movies perfectly depicting the Toddler-Man: The Big Labowski; Men Who Stare at Goats; It's Complicated; Chocolate; Burn After Reading . . . and too many others to list.