Oh my sweet Quinn. I wanted to write you a little letter this morning to tell you how much I love you. You are such a dear little man, and so important to our family. (well, Lucy still isn't sure she needs you.... but the rest of us adore you!) At this time in your life, you are the cutest ball of energy. You chatter and "talk" all the time, and you have so many words-- even if they're still pronounced more garbled than clear. Because you love your binkie so much, a handful of your words have been learned in a more nasal way, so you can say them around the binkie. The most distinctive example of this is when you make a train noise: Instead of saying "Choo choo!", you say something closer to "Knyng! Knyng!" It's so funny! But then you shift to the front of you mouth and go, "DingDingDingDing!" to simulate the sound of a railroad crossing signal, and lately you even add the little blended word, "Upoat!" ("All aboard!") in a perky, clipped tone. I LOVE your talking. I could describe it for pages. But since maybe I'm the only one THAT interested, I'll shorten the tale and only describe one other thing you say all the time.... Because this one completely melts me, every time.
Quinn, sweet boy-- you say "gank oo!!"(Thank you!) to EVERYTHING. I mean, EVERYTHING. It's like you're the world's most polite boy. It's so endearing I can hardly stand it.
I wipe your hands after a meal: "Gank ooooo!"
I pick up the fork you dropped: "Gank ooooo!"
I hand you a toy: "Gank ooooo!"
I put your shoe on: "Gank ooooo!"
I help you assemble your trains: "Gank ooooo!"
I take anything you're handing me: "Gank ooooo!"
Even when you don't love it, you're compulsively led to say it. Like yesterday-- you got a haircut, and were more than a little quivery and nervous about the blow dryer she used to quickly blast away the hair clippings. Yet, even though you were shaking and worried, when it turned off you said as usual, ""Gank ooooo!"--with a little tremulous voice to be sure--- but you still said it. I honestly swoon every time, EVERY TIME, I hear that little mouth of yours say these words. I wonder if I'll ever become used to it, or you will finally begin forgetting to say it all the time. I hope not.
You love to run. Oh, boy, do you love to run. I've never had such a runner as you--- you practically leap when you do it, and for being not even two, you are FAST and you are BALANCED. Those two little stems of yours, motoring so quickly to get you from Point A to Point B--- you're like a cartoon. I love it!
And you're affectionate. Always willing to give a kiss when asked, or a snuggle. And the best times are when you're feeling mellow (actually kind of rare!) and you are so willing to sit on my lap and press yourself into me as we read a book or watch a cartoon. I can lay my cheek on the top of your head and you don't wriggle away from me. I barely breathe when we're doing this, so that I can make it last as long as possible.
You LOVE your binkie, and you still take a bottle of whole milk twice a day. I know you don't NEED the bottle... but I know you're barely a baby as it is, so if I can get that ritual to stretch until you turn two in a few months, I will do it. It will be my last way of saying goodbye to the baby-ness of you.
Because you are basically ALL boy now. Climbing. Exploring. Grasping so many new things. Taking hits and standing right back up. Curious about everything. Happy almost all of the time.
You love Noah like crazy--- you call him "wo-ah", and you light up around him. And boy, can he make you laugh! You're a little more wary of Lucy, but you really do like her, and I think you're just waiting until she likes you a bit better. And she has taught you a few things: namely, how to say "No!" over and over... and how to express your frustration. She's more of a hitter, but you're becoming more of a thrower. I like neither of these things.... But I have to trust if I continue to tell you that we don't throw when we're mad, one day you'll grow out of it. Maybe. And I have to trust that one day, Lucy will stop feeling so territorial and compulsive about defending what's "hers", and will start being more of a friend to you.
Because honestly--- who WOULDN'T want to be your friend? You are lovable, happy, funny, daring, brave, silly, smart, and wonderful. You are a joy to your daddy, and you make me bubbly with love for you.
Quinn-- I hope you never stop running pell-mell or finding joy in everything. I hope you're always painstakingly polite and gracious. And I hope you'll always let me snuggle you a little longer, even when you're six feet tall and gangly and itching to get going to the next thing.
I love you, my little man-