Whole-towels...

This is my son's pronunciation of hotel, and this word is constantly escaping his lips. He tells me daily that his Grandpa Jim, Grandpa Molly (not a typo), Grandpa Dennis, Grandma Eileen, and Grandpa Dean are all going to ride in his car. And they'll go to the whole-towel, all of them. Just with my Sohl-son. Not with Mommy or Daddy or my little Sohl-gal. Hmmm. I inwardly wonder how long the six of them would last.

His idea of the whole-towel is that you get a room, and then you swim in the pool as long as you want. Then someone takes you to get food, at Pizza Plant-it or Jason's Deli if he plans it, after which you resume your aquatic activities. I love, and yet at the same time, am completely frustrated by, the simple possibility of this plan. He so wants to complete it, and being a loving parent, I want nothing more than to provide it for him. Special time, just for him, to bond with his grandparents doing one of the healthiest activities possible. Yet, with the distance between his grandparents individually and us, this simple plan becomes impossible.

Instead, we placate him with swim lessons, trips to the local pool with friends, and phone calls to the grandparents he so greatly desires to see.