Quinner: An update

To nap or not to nap?  That is the question.  At this point, as a two and a half year old we live in an oddly napless word.  Some days you have one willingly.  Other days I force you to rest.  Most days, we just play it by ear and either let you go without one and then you're in bed by 7:30 or so which is pretty great, or, you fall asleep on the floor at 4:30 watching Sponge Bob with your brothers and the rest of the evening is a struggle.  Regardless of your napitude, whether I have to wake you up from a beauty sleep or you don't get adequate rest, you are pretty pleasant and fun to be around.  Your brothers would grump and make me pay for lack of sleep at this age, but you are pretty good to go with the flow.



In addition to issues with naps, there are a few other things where your determined nature is playing a big role and making me rethink who is actually in charge.  Baths and clothes.  Up until about three weeks ago, you were one of those kids who would spent a good 40 minutes in a bath tub singing and playing and splashing around.  But, some switch flipped in your head and in the last few weeks, you've only had 4 real baths.  Everything else, nearly every single night is you standing and screaming and either your dad or I pouring water over your head, scrubbing the bits and pieces that need to be scrubbed and then getting you out.  It's so strange, this anti-bath-ness, but whatever.  You are just lucky that you are the third kid because otherwise, I'd probably be having a cow about it.



And clothes.  The gorilla shirt, the polar bear shirt, the shamu shirt and the dinosaur shirt and the tiger shirt.  That's about it.  And jeans.  And you have to wear the shirt to bed instead of your pajamas and some nights you insist on sleeping in your clothes and maybe last week, when I was tired of fighting with you, and you'd had one of those stand up scream baths, I maybe put real clothes on you as "pajamas" and then let you sleep in the and then wear them for the entire next day because - come on...you're kind of a pain about the clothes.



It's been so long since we have been to the zoo, that you have decided the animals are missing.  We have conversations daily that go like this:  "Mom, where is the giraffe?"  "I think it's at the zoo, Quinn."  "Not at the zoo, giraffe is LOST!" and then you panic a little, go through about 6 other animals and then move on about your day.



You LOVE to jump on the trampoline and will even go out there alone and jump by yourself.  You love to read books, stack Lego blocks, pick your nose and are starting to outgrow some of your plastic animals a little, even though you still generally have a few close by or lined up on a table or counter.  You love to kung fu fight, dance Ganghem Style, and draw.  Mostly, you smash the tips of markers, but you have fun.



You always want me to lift you up to show you what I'm cooking on the stove, help set the table (your job is forks) and even though you don't eat much during the day, you have on several occasions eaten an entire Waffle Love waffle with berries and cream.



Jack is your best friend.  How do I know?  You told me.  You also think that Jack lives at Grandma's house.  And if we even mention Grandma's name, you immediately want to go to her house, ride in her car, find Jack, and play with toys.  Grandma Judy met us for lunch this week and you just about flipped your lid.

You love to go to stores.  For as much as you hated the car as an infant and toddler, you've realized that cars are good for going to stores and getting Slurpee's.  I think that you are my errand kid - the one I'll be able to depend on when we're older to go on a coke run, or a target run, or just drive through a neighborhood to see what's cookin' kind of run.  When we get home from errands, sometimes you cry because you want to go to more stores.  I'm sure it's because you love to look at things and see people and ask me questions - and it's way more fun to do that at IKEA than just at home, the two of us.  I like having you as my buddy.

You are cuddly and tough, strong and snugly.  You will drink a bottle until your 5 and may wear diapers just as long.  For as much as you are a big kid - a grown up kid, you are still my baby.  Even though if I call you my baby you reply, "No.  My Quinn.  My not a baby, my a boy!"

And if I say to you, "What's moms name?" you look at me, smile, laugh out loud and say, "Ross!"