Cones

We just came home from an evening at the beach. "I want my combs, Mama," Quinn announced while putting her shoes away.  And I ignored her, thinking said combs are stashed where only she knows. 

Fifteen minutes later, she sought me out to remind me that she wanted her combs. Confused, I asked her what combs?

"The pink and yellow ones," she answered. 

I had no recollection of me getting her, or she acquiring from someone else said combs. 

"The pink and yellow combs we bought at the store!" she was now whining in frustration. 

We bought combs at the store? I was so confused. Combs for your hair? I solicited clarification. 

"No! Combs for the ice cream!" now approaching Defcon 5 state of alarm. 

The light in my brain turned on! It's so helpful when a toddler has a good grasp of language; it totally opens up the line of communication. 

Of course My Darling Girl, the CONES are right here. 

Mama, I'm Riding the Blue Train

"I want to ride the train," said Quinn last week. "The orange train." 

There are three trains that run on the railroad in our town. The grey train is Amtrak, the blue train is the Sounder commuter, and Quinn's favorite, the orange (sometimes green) BNSF freight train. She loves the orange train because five engineers have opened their windows to wave back at Quinn as they passed. 

Since the orange train is not an option, she picked the blue train because blue is her favorite color. 

So today we went for a short ride on the blue train. 

She was intimidated at first. "Mama, is it loud in the train?" She meant the train horn. 

I told her it's not loud inside the train, and that the train doesn't blow its horn all the time. 

Then there was the conductor. He was very kind and gentle, but perhaps the uniform and the gadgets hanging on his waist were intimidating? She wanted to be the one to hand him our ticket, but when he came to us, she froze like a deer in head lights. 

But once we were well into the ride, and she saw the beach where we go to watch and wave at the trains, she sat back and took it all in with fascination. 

"Mama, I'm riding the blue train..." she repeated like a mantra. 

Today She Wants to Wear Yellow

She has been dressing herself for a few months now. It started with her choosing between two outfits that I'd present to her. Then she insisted on putting on the  outfit. And now she rummages through her dresser drawers and flips through her hung dresses to find the one outfit that is just right. But it takes a few options — resulting in a pile of clothes on the floor — before she decides on the perfect look. By the way, my clothes are not immune to this. 

Today she greeted me with this. 

She wanted something yellow. She holds up a shirt to see the front, and slides it over her head exactly as she held it up for inspection. 

Because there were no blue pants in the drawer she puts on the purple. And the striped article of clothing under her pants are shorts with blue stripes. (Keyword: blue.)

"Mama, I found pink and purple socks!" she exclaimed. "It matches my shirt and pants."

Just to be sure she is properly dressed I ask her if she's wearing underwear. 

"Yes, Mama. I'm wearing my yellow panties, like my shirt."

We Went to See the Tulips

We went to the tulip fields a little early this year (click here to see last year's trip), but it was just as beautiful as it would have been in the coming April.





Three things different this year: we went to Tulip Town,  Quinn was fascinated with the kites, and we went with Delafonte and his family.



Now that Quinn is more sure-footed, she was able to enjoy the farm more. There were fences to climb – which was against the rules – mud to feel between her toes, and ice cream on this hot spring morning.









By the way, we found out it was also against the rules to get into the flower rows from the farm "marshall" who yelled at us DON'T GO INTO THE ROWS! DON'T TOUCH THE FLOWERS, THEY'RE COVERED IN PESTICIDE! Now, who ever made those rules must have known that they were going to be broken 200%. Who wouldn't want to get right into the middle of the rows for a photo opportunity, and what kid wouldn't be fascinated enough to touch the lively colors?!

The use of pesticide on the other hand... hmmm. Really, you would douse the flowers with pesticide knowing that patrons are going to get right up close and personal to them?

I hope that woman marshal was just having a bad day on this otherwise bright, warm, glorious day.

Quinn wanted to ride the tractor trolley.





It lulled her to sleep.




And she slept all the way home.

No More Diapers

It was a very nice surprise to run into a friend and her little boy while we were out to lunch with Alfonsina. The little boy's name is Jack. Quinn and Jack hit it iff like ling lost cousins — you know, that feeling that you know the other person on a more intimate level despite never having met him, only because you know you are connected by blood. Well, Quinn is not related to Jack at all, but I have known this friend since she first moved to my neck of woods I-don't-know-how-many-years-ago now. 

Oh, they ran, jumped, stumbled, wrestled, and even almost got into fist-a-cuffs with each other over a golf club toy Alfonsina gave to Quinn just this morning. 

Quinn doesn't wear diapers (during the day) anymore. In fact, she has been so diligent about keeping her pants dry that she'll forego modesty if there is no toilet within a minute's walk away. Yes, she'll pull down her pants or hike up her skirt to pee on the ground. And that's exactly what she did today. 

Jack still wears diapers, and seeing Q go and hearing her proudly announce "I went see-see in the grass!" sparked a little curiosity. He investigated the spot Quinn pointed at, but seeing no water, dismissed it altogether. 

And they continued to play, this time with the toys Jack brought. They laughed, they agreed with each other, and disagreed. 

In the meantime, little May and her family (strangers who just happened to be on the lawn with us) came along. And of course, playing got better!

Now, I call your attention to Quinn's posture. Mind you, we just had a big lunch...

She suddenly got up and ran to the hedge where she peed earlier. I couldn't see her from my vantage point, but I heard little May's mom proclaim "Oh my goodness, she's really doing it!"

A moment later Quinn emerged from the hedge and announced even more proudly than she did before "I MADE POO-POO IN THE GRASS!" She looked at me, at Alfonsina, at my friend, then turned around to beam at the other spectators. 

Jack and I hurried over to Quinn as her "spectators" hurried off the direction. And there it was: the perfect turd! A brownish-yellow tube tapering off to a point. 

TMI!!!

Jack was mesmerized. He stared so hard  at it, it might have levitated if I didn't nudge him out of his reverie. 

I would have taken a photo of it, but alas, I was too embarrassed at little May's shocked family. Besides, YOU probably couldn't stand to even glance at that golden turd. But it would have been more embarrassing to clean the poop off her bum and pants with quite an audience. 

Good job Quinn! You kept your pants dry and clean!

Eskimo See, Eskimo Do

Quinn took her first step just before Halloween last year. Now she's running, climbing, and on her way to jumping off of higher platforms - yikes! She just saw her doctor for her routine wellness check, and I was surprised at some of the questions the doctor asked me.  

Is she walking backwards? Yes. I've seen it when she backs away from Sonya.

Is she picking up things with her index finger and thumb? Yes. Just the other day she presented me with a needle.

[Bad Mama! Leaving needles out for Quinn to pick up. In my defense though, the needle was out because I patched up a stuffed polar bear toy from the thrift store.]

Does she talk? Yes, if you consider babbling talking. I speak to her in two languages, so I can't tell if she's talking in Visayan or in English.

Is she paralleling your actions? Are you kidding?! I have to conceal the movements I make that I don't want her to follow, like locking the door, because she'll figure out how to get outside the house if she twists the lock the same way I just did! However, you ought to see her version of downward facing dog when I am doing yoga with her.

Then the doctor told me Don't be too alarmed if from now on she loses her voracious appetite... Expect that she will want to do things herself, like feeding, dressing, etc. 

Indeed, Quinn doesn't inhale her food like she used to anymore. The upside of that though is that she doesn't eat everything she gets her hands on anymore. So when we go to the beach I don't worry about her munching on sand.

Or rocks...

Or broken toys she picks up off the shore.

Quinn loves water. To drink and to play in.

When I was younger, and watched my Pa clean the fish he caught, I used to spread open the tails of parrot fish, admiring their intense blue-green color, wishing I was a mermaid so that I can stay under water all day, exploring corals and shells. Once I even asked my Pa if a turtle's lungs can be transplanted into humans. Don't talk such ridiculous things! Pa would reprimand.

I digress. But that's how much I loved the sea.

Back to Quinn. Does she love water because I did when I was a kid too?

5-Star showed Quinn how to throw a rock. Kid's got an arm!

Now she throws anything she can get her hands on at home. Maybe that was one thing that should have been concealed from her too...  However, if she would just parallel the more practical and useful actions she sees, my chores would be easier.

So Quinn, can you empty the water out of your boots yourself?

Look...

Now, you do it too...

Two Lips

It's that time of the year again, when the tulips bloom in Mt. Vernon, WA. It's an annual Mecca for photographers, tourists, and anyone really, who appreciates the spectacular sight of a sea of colors. This time we went with Lana. She loves to take pictures, and she wanted to take pictures of Quinn.

Quinn had woken up in a horrible mood. See, her molars are coming up. I imagine it must hurt more than when I get my teeth cleaned. Poor baby keeps sticking her fingers in her mouth. And the drool! But the Mighty Quinn that she is, she perked up when she saw the flowers, and even tried to pick some - which is not allowed!

Quinn has her own language now. She can carry on a conversation that only she understands. (Does she think we're stupid when we respond to her babble "incorrectly", I wonder?) But she has been trying very hard to imitate the sounds I make for her. Like, I asked her "Quinn, can you say two lips?"

"Tah tah," she responds.

"That's right! Not one lip, but two."