A new beginning

With the birth of baby Keaton, The Daily Quinn has been merged with a new site to document the lives of two precocious little boys.

Please join us aboard the U.S.S. Fussy Britches.

The White House

On the way home from shopping the other day, we approached the normal left turn into our apartment complex.

Cap'n Quinn knows the route. We've driven it almost daily for the past year as we returned to the two-bedroom cave we've called home.

From his perch in the backseat, Quinn made a request: "Can we go to the White House, Daddy?"

Before you get impressed about a two-year-old's political aspirations, the White House to which he referred is our recently purchased, four-bedroom home here in Oregon.

As Cap'n of the U.S.S. Fussy Britches, Quinn is a natural-born adventure-seeker. And the White House offers plenty of new territory for exploring. There's the candy drawer in the kitchen, the candy drawer next to Grandma's bed, and the candy stash in Grandma's purse. We have too much candy.

But we've also got a nice backyard and an inflatable pool, staples of summertime we've been sorely lacking.

Daddy's been happy to finally have a lawn to mow with his new electric push mower, and he's even happier to reunite with his big grill. Mommy is busy organizing all our stuff and picking out paint colors. Dexie has been tramping all over the garden and barking at the chicken in the yard behind us.

Maybe some day, we'll have chicken to cook on Daddy's big grill.

As exciting as the White House may be, the real excitement is a week away. The lil Skipper Keaton arrives to partner with the Cap'n on a whole new chapter of adventures. This blog will be changing, too, so stay tuned.

Storming the beach

Memorial Day brought us to Cannon Beach on Oregon's Pacific Coast in what we hope will become more than an annual expedition. The beach is too beautiful to enjoy only once a year.

Cap'n Quinn calls it his "sandbox," not fully understanding the term beach, but it's apropos. The world is his sandbox, after all, and in it we made sandcastles. This wasn't easy, having only one bucket and two scoops, one of which was broken. Next time, we'll be more prepared.

Posted as he is at the helm of the U.S.S. Fussy Britches, Quinn naturally did more than build sandy fortifications. We were also on the hunt for whales, braving the Ocean's treacherous shin-high breakers on the search for a Great White.

Alas, we never found one, but the ocean offered us a spent clam shell as temporary bounty. Quinn said no thanks, and went about his business.

It was a beautiful day, as most days have been this month while we await the final days before we move into our new home. It's been torturous, this wait, but it will be here soon enough.

We're already making preparations to build our own sandbox.

It will be slightly smaller than the one at Cannon Beach.

Big moves

July 8, 2009, 8:30 a.m.

Mark the date and time above into the annals of history. Another classy young man will grace this planet on that morning, at almost precisely that time.

Keaton Siemers, the Skipper, will finally join the good Cap'n Quinn, Mommy and Daddy on the U.S.S. Fussy Britches.

He will arrive on the most sequential of dates -- 7/8/09. If only is his Mommy's C-section were to start at 6 or 10 a.m. would it be more perfect.

But we're shooting for a whole different kind of perfect: the perfect baby, perfect son, perfect big brother, all living together in the perfect new house.

That's the other part of our new news. As of last week, we reached an agreement to buy a house a few mere blocks from the tiny apartment in which we live now in Beaverton, Ore.

With luck, assuming all goes well, we'll be living comfortably there by the time the Skipper comes to join us. His room will be neatly painted, probably some shade of green, just a few steps away from his big brother, the good Cap'n.

The long journey from uncertainty in New Mexico to discomfort in Oregon will finally come to a close. A new house, a new baby, a happy family. It's all just a few weeks away.

Stay tuned. This ship has set sail.

A man of many words

The other day, while driving his car, Daddy opened a can of Altoids. Every now and then, Daddy needs to tend to his breath. He took two.

Quinn, sitting the in his car seat, became curious.

"What eatin' Daddy?"

"Nothing," Daddy replied.

A few days later, after a dinner out, Daddy is again sitting in the front seat. He pops open one of the after-dinner mints the waitress left on the table.

Quinn, again in the back seat, got a scent.

"What eatin' Daddy?"

"Nothing," Daddy replied.

"I smell candy," Quinn said.

It became apparent at that moment, that Quinn, he of diminutive stature but rapidly maturing mind, had developed a Spidey Sense.

Suddenly, his nose has become a powerful tool with the power to sense anything sweet the second it hits the open air. That, and he's just learned a lot more words.

Ask him what a parrot says: "Polly want a cracker!"

What's Daddy's favorite movie?: "James! Bond!"

Who's the big brown elephant-like creature on Sesame Street: "Snuffyuckabus."

Even his greetings are getting, for lack of a better phrase, more grown up.

Mommy and Daddy were standing in the kitchen this evening and in walks Quinn.

"Hey guys. What doin'?"

Hey guys? Where did that come from? We cease to wonder.

Next year, he'll be doing our taxes and babysitting his brother.

Vegetable extraction

Of all the titles bestowed upon a Daddy, "chief vegetable extractor" is among the least desirable.

A few weeks back, Mommy was away preparing our house in Albuquerque for its upcoming sale and seeing that all of our worldly possessions got packed in a truck. (The house sale itself being a tale worthy of title "momentous.")

Meanwhile, Daddy and Quinn were left to fend for themselves. Being the temporary bachelors they were, the boys shared a pizza on their first night together. On night two, Daddy decided to be responsible and serve a proper meal, vegetables and all. Green peas it was.

Before long, Quinn had a finger deep inside his nostril and a guilty look on his face. Using a flashlight, Daddy spotted the offending green sphere nestled comfortably where his fingers couldn't reach.

Extraction attempts by tweezer and a suction didn't work. After several calls to an on-call nurse, and a few regretful curses, Daddy was ready to throw in the towel and make a trip to the emergency room. A pea stuck up a nostril isn't a critical threat, but the nurse warned against it.

So in a last ditch effort, Daddy, at the advice of the nurse, shot a poof of air up Quinn's clear nostril. With the force of a BB gun, the pea shot out from his nose with a boom. It was a momentous occasion. Both Quinn and Daddy cheered. Today, in my memory, it all happens in slow motion, like a made-for-film recreation of a historic moment.

The next night, Quinn and Daddy went out for buffalo wings.

Paci no more

The Paci Fairy came to town recently and in her wake she left an airplane and took those paci's away forever!

Quinn was more than happy to give them to her and even put them in an envelope with stickers all over it. He left it on the doorstep and she came and left us a Little People airplane. Life was great for all of about 2 minutes, until he realized that the paci was gone for nap-time.

It has now been over a week and he sometimes asks for it, but he goes to sleep without much fuss and mommy feels good that it wasn't too traumatic.