Christmas 2015
So back in, like, July, someone told Connie that they love our Christmas letter and that they’re looking forward to reading it again this year. July. This was even before Costco had their Christmas stuff out. C’mon, people, get a life.
Connie and I are doing well. We celebrated our 20th anniversary this year. This is an amazing accomplishment. Just think about it – have you ever spent any time at all with me? It’s painful. Now imagine doing it every day for 20 years. Yeah. Also, Connie started working again this year as a temp. She says that “substitute teaching” isn’t “temping”, but if it’s not then I don’t know what is. But I’m one to talk. I’m lucky to be working at all, and I’m very happy to have started with a new research group at PNNL.
As for the kids, they all dutifully moved up a grade in school. All except Leon, that is. He moved up two grades, because second grade is for suckers. And he is still the (self-proclaimed) smartest kid in his class and quite possibly the entire universe. Calvin started his sophomore year in high school, enjoying marching band and whatever else it is he does – mostly hiding out in his room and pretending that he doesn’t have any homework to do and then reluctantly doing it late when he gets busted. Felix is in the middle grade of middle school. Enough said. Actually, that’s not fair. For a kid who was a giant pain in the ass as a baby, he’s turned into a very responsible and reliable young man while being only a small pain in the ass. And Dorothy started preschool, likes to dress up like princesses, and is basically a spoiled brat. Shocking news there, I hope you were sitting down for that.
And then there’s Quincy. Quincy had a tough year. Back in January he wasn’t feeling so well. Turns out he had pneumonia, which, by March, had evolved into a massive abscess that occupied most of his right lung. The doc told us to get to the hospital in Spokane ASAP so they could insert a chest tube and PICC line. I didn’t think we’d be gone that long, but one day turned into two days turned into a week of Quincy, me, and the same two Wiggles DVDs alone together in a hospital room 150 miles from home and me without enough changes of underwear. I thought it sucked. But not Quincy. “This is the best trip ever!” he declared with unbridled optimism as he munched on a cold hospital hamburger while tubes and wires poked out of him. Thankfully, he fully recovered and was back to his normal mischief in no time. A couple months later he had surgery to correct a vision problem. So now he’s not cockeyed anymore, at least not in the literal sense. A couple months later he ended up in the ER with appendicitis – in spite of the pain, he was just glad to be back in the hospital (seriously). A couple months later he had another surgery to remove his tonsils to correct a sleep apnea issue, but his only concern was that he got to stay another night in the hospital. So to sum up: this year he had four surgeries, and he spent a total of 8 nights in the hospital and 2 in the sleep clinic. He loved every second of it. But when Quincy is feeling well, he’s a real handful. Quincy is Schrödinger’s Child: he’s always in some convoluted, simultaneous state of naughty and nice, and you never really know which one until you check, and, trust me, you never really want to check. He throws his dishes in the garbage. He packs his suitcase because he decides he’s going on a trip, then we can’t find any of his clothes for a week because he hid the suitcase. He takes a lunch to school then buys hot lunch and hides his home lunch in the cabinet until the teacher has to evacuate the classroom and call in the hazmat team. When he’s sick he fakes being healthy and sneaks off to school. He eats like a Hobbit – first breakfast, second breakfast, elevensies, lunch, after-lunch, pre-dinner, dinner, post-dinner, mid-evening snack, bedtime snack. He begs and begs for a haircut “just like dad’s” – totally bald in front and on top. He can clog any toilet because one roll of toilet paper just isn’t enough. He’s thoroughly aggravating and bafflingly hilarious at once. But here’s the kicker: the state of Washington doesn’t consider Quincy to be disabled enough to qualify for disabilities benefits – in spite of an IQ in the 40s and an undisputed diagnosis of Down syndrome. They claim he’s too socially adept. I’d like the nimrod that made this decision to spend a day in our shoes. We’re fighting this, but seriously, WTF, Washington???
Wishing you a Merry Christmas and health and happiness in the upcoming year,
Rick, Connie, Calvin, Felix, Quincy, Leon, and Dorothy