Happy Birthday, kiddo! Two!! I think you had a bang up birthday. Daddy, Emily, Papa and Gram set up a Yo Gabba Gabba explosion in the kitchen while you took a nap and you were so tickled when you woke up. It was like you couldn’t believe that all of your buddies from Gabba Land were here for a party. It is impossible sometimes to tell if you are saying “potty” or “party” so the day was exciting. You ran through the house yelling “party” while I trailed after you saying “Do you have to go potty, Lu?”
You’re such a happy little lady. You’re always smiling. You are such a menace. Somedays I think you spend all day developing your crackpot plans for destruction but you mean well. The delight in your face as someone yells “Oh, Lucy!!!” makes cleaning it all up worthwhile for the time being. Don’t feel like you need to stay in this phase for too awful long. I will suffer through the momentary sadness when I mention to one of your many doting grandparents “I noticed today it has been weeks since Lucy mindlessly dumped out an entire drawer full of stuff.”
You love your babies with your whole entire little self. You are frequently walking around the house bouncing a baby on your shoulder saying “Shhh, shh, shh.” Your babies are busy, too. They are always napping or crying according to you. I ask you what they are doing all of the time. I think I ask you what you are doing a lot, too, because in the last month you have taken to constantly asking us “What are you DOING?” in this tone that suggests that whatever we doing is inane.
You are not the most graceful little person. You have a tendency to crash and burn but nothing slows you down. If I have to be honest with you, Lucy, your head circumference is off the charts, it’s no wonder you tumble from time to time. But you never make a peep. You are back on your feet, onward and upward, in no time. I hope this “nothing keeps a good woman down” attitude serves you well in your life.
You’re not really a baby anymore. I mean, you got a bike for your birthday, man. Babies don’t ride bikes. But I have news for you, Lu, you will always be the baby. It’s going to drive you totally crazy someday when I hold you extra tight or kiss you in front of your middle school. But I promise that being the baby will pay off. You will probably also be able to stay out ten minutes past your curfew someday because everyone knows that the youngest kid in the family has slacker rules as a teenager. And we won’t even talk about the inappropriate movies you will probably get to watch because by the time you are your sister’s age I will have been watching heart-felt animal movies for almost fifteen years and sometimes a girl just needs a break.
Lucy, I love you like crazy. You haven’t slept through the night a single time in your two years and you still won’t take a nap without a solid twenty minutes of snuggling with your mama in the middle but you know what – I wouldn’t change a thing. Two years later and I still bend my face down to the top of your head and inhale and think about how these days will pass faster than I can even imagine.
Happy Birthday, Lucy Quinn. I tell you all of the time, but don’t you forget – you’re a really good baby. And try not to think too much about how I sometimes say it in the same tone of voice that I say “You’re such a good dog” to Fisher. You two spend a lot of time together but it isn’t like I can’t tell you apart.