Quinner :: 24 months

Oh baby, baby.  Oh baby, baby.
Oh baby, baby.  Oh, baby, baby.

Today.  You are two.  Those two lines are from a song by a girl rap group called Salt and Peppa.  You will never in your life know who Salt and Peppa were.  It's okay.  I am old.

And you are TWO!

I think that you're dad and I are a little bit in shock that you, our baby waby, our honey bunny, our lamey wamey (am I grossing you out yet?) are two years old.  It has come so fast and so hard, it's like we haven't even had a chance to catch our breath.



You are a spectacular and amazing and funny and opinionated little person.  You are thoughtful and take your time.   You always say please and thank-you and you cannot stand going to church.  On Sunday, after sacrament meeting, Dad said, "Quinn, are you ready to go to nursh?"  You firmly replied, "No nursh.  Dad's truck.  Go home!"  And, believe it or not, you won.  You and dad came home.  Got him wrapped around your finger you do.

All of us actually.  Wrapped around your finger that is.  Except when you bite or hit or throw hard plastic animals at Wyatt's head.  Then you get in trouble and throw a wonderfully orchestrated screaming hissy fit on any hard surface you can find.  The "terrible two's" have hit hard my boy.  We will weather them, as we weather all things, but it's already pretty annoying.



Lately, you are so in love with, and so miss your Uncle Willie.  Thank heaven's for the kind sister (Sister Trejo) who sent us the 1:09 video of Willie singing in a trio at a zone conference with his ukulele.  You not only watch that video at least a dozen times a day, without fail, but I've bookmarked it on my kindle and you know where to find it, how to replay it, and you have almost learned all the words -  or at least can hum along with the melody of the song.  You will be so excited to see him when we get to chat online at Christmastime.  It will probably make me cry.  Your love for him, and need to see him every day pretty much makes me cry all the time anyway.  Having my little brother on a mission is hard, but having your best buddy on a mission is even harder.  I'm pretty sure though, that you will not be too big to sit on his lap when he gets home, and that he's saving your spot for you.

Pretty much, you are my favorite little two year old around.  I love to listen to you talk.  You have quite the imagination and are very funny.  You get jokes, are as obsessed with bathroom humor as your brothers, and can be calmed down always with an animal show.  You love to get your own snacks out of the pantry, sit at the table like a big boy, and can open every single door in the house, the fridge, and slide kitchen chairs around to wherever you might need them to be.

Thank you for being my little boy.  Thank you for coming from heaven to be part of our family.  I don't know what we would do without you.  Well, I know your dad would sleep through the night a little more often, but other than that, we'd be completely lost.

So much love little fart.

Happy Birthday.