Perfection

Sometimes when he's alone in the bed, when maybe Luke or I have both tip-toed out of the room in the wee hours of the morning, Quinn will lay with his arms spread wide out. It's marvelous to behold. During his Saturday nap, I watched him wipe his hands off while he was sleeping, just like he might when he's stumbled while running and has sand on his hands to dust off. Sometimes he giggles in his sleep and you know that's he's enjoying a pleasant dream. Other times when he turns to Luke or I in the middle of the night and gives us a hug, we know he's reliving a moment of happy family time. My hope is that Quinn's dreams will always tend towards the positive and light. Still, I know that there will be fear and sadness in his life. He's very much what I imagined 2 year olds might be. Little things will prompt real tears and he'll place his face on the ground, his butt in the air and very genuinely mourn something, whether it be hearing the word No, having something taken from him or the air in the room might shift... Typically, these moments are short lived and he is fairly easily distracted or soothed. Lately, he really likes watching Robots, but when there are scenes in the chop shop and it's darker and the music is more looming, he likes to sit in my lap and be held, as if I provide the security he needs to "handle" the scene. I'm slowly but surely finding that routines work well in our life and we have come to them naturally, instead of prescribing them haphazardly. For example, we do a bath every other night. Luke gives the bath and he has a system about the sprayer and when it can come down. Quinn knows all the key words for the shampoo experience. On Sundays or Mondays I clip Quinn's nails down. When I pick Quinn up from daycare, I have chocolate animal crackers for him in the car. There are some routines we're still working on. When to go to the gym, for example, or when exactly we're going to eat dinner. Tonight, Quinn has "boy's class" with Dad and he calls it such-- very cute.