dear Quincy August,
your personality has blossomed this year into a curious, try-anything-once, sports-loving bruiser of a younger brother.
in short, you’re still living life on your own terms – you still say “no” more than any child ever created, and you make your body flop and flail when your “no” isn’t well received, and you’re subsequently forced to do something you don’t want to do, like {gasp!} take turns or {shocker!} say “sorry.”
but underneath the saucy exterior, you’re smart and silly and fiercely loving, too.
i feel elated and terrified, in tandem, to be your Mama. one minute, i’m so unbelievably astounded by your statements and questions {“how do dinosaurs cry?”}, and then later, i watch you jump, fearless, off of a tall bouncy-house platform into the bouncy-plush below, and i pray that your bones and your joy stay in tact.
“reluctant” is too soft a word to explain your feelings on potty-training; you’re in all-out refusal mode, and you refuse to acknowledge the need for diaper changes or for toilet use in general – you’re simply too busy playing and wrestling and giggling. we’ve told you over and over that little boys who don’t use the potty will not be permitted to play organized sports in the spring, yet this has no effect on you – it’s almost as if you are daring us and calling our bluff.
what i love most of all about you this year, Quincy, is your cheese-ball smile. you’ve perfected the fake smile, Silly Boy, and as a fellow fake-smiler in my youth, i so appreciate your style and delivery.
our family wouldn’t be the same without you, Quincy – Mama and Daddy would surely laugh a lot less, we’d have zero diapers to change {ahem}, Lionel would exist in a perpetual state of boredom – his most frequently uttered words are “Quincy” and “play with me,” and Nellie the dog would not be tackled or wrestled nearly enough.
we love you oh so much, saucy boy. here’s to FOUR!
xoxo, Mama
