That's So Sohl-son

Toast sailboat, al la Sohl-son.

Fotos Del Sohl

Bumbo-head brother. This is the only picture he'd cooperate long enough to take.

Plumeria del Sohl.

One of the little Sohl-gal's tricks - early taco tounge.

Daddy's plumeria princess. (Thank Sunny for the flowers!)

Apparently Carter was invited on an 80's-themed night-time safari. Sounds sweet, right?

Creepy-crawly

My little Sohl-gal's current impersonation of an insect is pretty good. I call her current moves "the worm." While it appears to be in s-l-o-w motion, she pretty accurately completes the dance move, allowing her to attack any small object of her desire. I outwardly cheer her on, and inwardly cry for my tiny, helpless little Sohl. Thus is parenting.

Fort-uitous...

These two views are looking into the tent through the door. It was as large as the area rug our dining room table sits on, and all four of us were able to fit inside without touching. Oh yeah. Uncle Dan, Uncle Adam, and Aunt Michelle have GOT to get in this tent.

This last view is looking towards the "door" to the tent.

This afternoon my sweet little Sohl's helped me construct what I decided was a Morrocan-inspired fort, or according to my Sohl-mate, a tent. He insisted that since it lacked the required gun turret, it was not a true fort. Whatever we call it, my Sohl son was terribly excited that I suggested we build one this afternoon. I told him to thank SunJane the next time he saw her, as her recent blog about her daughter's fort convinced me to let loose a little more, and let the kids have some good old fashioned fun. Oh, and I wanted to prove to my Sohl-mate that our table would indeed make a rockin' fort... ahem, tent. And it did.

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.