"Two of hearts, two hearts that beat as one. I need you, I need you!" ~ Stacey Q
Two. That's my favorite number. And I'm not going to say that every year, my darling Q. Just ask your Auntie/ Future MIL Sarah. When we were in college and she would ask me to pick a number between 1 and 10 to help her make a tough decision (mostly when we were out grabbing some food), I would always choose 2. It became pointless because she knew I would pick 2. Like the chicken sandwich would be any number from 1 to 5 and the salad would be 6 to 10. So, chicken sandwich. Get it? Anyway. This is about you, not your mama and her bff. You are 2 freakin' years old, little man!
Just as the oh so deep Stacey Q suggests, we have two hearts that have beat as one for the last two years. But you're becoming more independent now. You want to do things your way. You rule Guido. You are Prince Quince. My heart sinks into my stomach at the thought of you needing me less and less, while it also swells with pride. The tug and pull. My heart can't take all of this tumbling.
Speaking of tumbling, Daddy likes to say that you were adopted from Romania and bred to be an Olympic champion. After watching a gymnastics class recently, you went for it and started somersaulting. And then I showed you gymnastics on TV, and you ran and leaped and somersaulted some more. You are amazing. And you are not adopted -- you get it from your mama. I'd better sign you up for some classes soon. You'll be the next Paul Hamm (I had to look that up, I don't really know male gymnasts. Before you, I mean.)
What else? Your love of trucks continues to grow -- as does your collection, thanks to Santa and his assorted elves. You still try to eat markers instead of drawing with them. You are barely stringing two word sentences together, but you say new words on a daily basis, even some with two syllables. You are spoiled beyond all hopes of having healthy eating habits by your doting grandparents and are now obsessed with "COOKS" (aka cookies). You wave to strangers who happen by, shining your brilliant blues at them. You still give the most delicious snuggles. And I am still your everlovin' Meem.
Quincy, it's your 2nd birthday. Happy Birthday, Quincy!
Now, without further ado . . .