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My sweet little Quince. You look like such a baby, but your mind is growing so quickly, the juxtaposition is really something. You are speaking in sentences (!) Seriously, actual sentences: “I want shoes, I NEED that, I want lay down, I want walk, I LIKE that!” and to hear one of these phrases suddenly burst from your placid little baby face (Buddha baby, your Aunt Diane calls you, and it’s apt) is so startling, it’s like having a stuffed animal suddenly ask for a sip of my coffee. Strangers usually respond, “Did she just…?” Or my favorite, the lady on her cell phone walking behind us at Target (and yes, you walk at Target, and no, you will not let me hold your hand), “OMG, there’s the tiniest little baby just strolling through Target; she’s like a foot tall and wearing Levis.” Really, in your puffy winter coat, those miniature legs and high tops poking out are quite the sight.

Your dad is a little freaked out that you’ve been stalled in 18 month clothing for about half of your life (with no signs of outgrowing) but the doctors tell me you’re measuring up right at average. Teeth, too, seemed stuck (you had four by eight months and then nothing) but suddenly in the last two weeks ish, five more have shown up (including your upper two-year-old molars, a surprising discovery given your relatively empty mouth). You have significantly more hair than your sister did at this point, downy soft in front, with a coarse little puff in the back. That part usually sticks straight out.

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You have a real thing for shoes and accessories; you insist on rotating between three or four pairs in a day, and you help yourself to the hat/mitten drawer constantly (also the dress up bin, thus the photos). You love to dance and spin, especially with Junip. You enjoy grown up tastes – my unsweetened tea, Listerine breath spray (long story), ginger and raw onions and broccoli. You tend to walk either all on your heels or all on your tip toes, so predictably, you tip over a lot. When your dad gives you some dough at the counter, you actually knead it, with your whole body, and even with good form.

I find it representative of your sweet nature that with all the words you’ve picked up, “no” is not one of them. Don’t get me wrong, if you feel strongly enough about something, you let the whole neighborhood know. But assuming you’re not in the throes of despair, if I ask you a ‘yes or no’ question, you either answer “yeah” while nodding so vigorously your whole little body shakes, or you just stare at me passively.

Spontaneously throughout the day, you like to crawl over to (or onto) your sister, hug her around the neck or take her face in your hands, and give her kisses. Every time it happens, she looks at me out of the corner of her eye, smiling, as if to say, “Mom, are you seeing this? I can’t talk or move or I’ll ruin it!”

You are just so full of quirks and opinions, unexpected habits and idiosyncrasies… you just charm the dickens out of all of us. We love you so much, Quinn.

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