Soren Update: November 2010

There's always so much to say about Soren that I find myself overwhelmed when I come to these letters each month-- so much, in fact, that I put off writing them because it seems an impossible task. So this month I've decided to do a twenty minute Soren Freewrite and publish whatever comes out without proofreading, reviewing, etc. So, here goes.

Briar woke up one morning and walked into the bathroom, where Soren was splashing in the bathtub. Upon seeing his auntie, he stop splashing and commented, "Cute belt, Briar. Where did you get it?"

While we were out walking one evening, Soren asked me, "Mom, who made all of this?" "Who made what?" I asked. "All of this," he said, gesturing expansively at our surroundings. "Well, there was this massive explosion billions of years ago..." I started. But he cut me off: "I think it was construction, a paint truck, and God." Made good enough sense to me.

Some weeks ago Abraham convinced Soren that we bought him at the store for a nickel.

The child will occasionally make up his own songs: one day I caught him singing a song with lyrics that went something like this: "It's a nice day for wuvin' (lovin') and wivin (livin')." He also occasionally bursts into song about his mommy, and how nice she is, and how much he loves her and misses her when she's at work or on a date.

Oh, that boy and his mommy. I have never met a child with such a bad case on his mother. Approximately seven hundred times a day he tells me that he loves me. ("Mommy? I just love you and love you and love you.") Three hundred times a day he'll inquire after my well-being: "So, Mommy," he'll say. "How's your day?" He also believes that I contain the answer to all his problems. When we were leaving New Hampshire, for example, Grandma Skousen was giving him a tearful farewell. "It's okay, Grandma," he told her. "Mommy will take good care of me." On another occasion he and Grandma Hanson found themselves lost in Wolverine (long story). He asked, "Grandma? Where's your house?" And she truthfully replied, "I'm not sure where it is, sweetie." "It's okay, Grandma," he said. "Mommy will come find us." It's sweet, and I enjoy being the object of his adoration, but his intense love does cause problems, a persistently ferocious jealousy of Liam being the primary one. This morning, in fact, I was explaining to him for the millionth time that I could hold Liam and still love Soren. He flat-out told me: "I don't believe you." He's also frequently telling me that I need to stop loving Daddy.

Some mornings Soren will bust out some serious dance moves. He's got this wild break dancing thing going on that involves a lot of rolling around on the floor and swiveling around his head. He'll do this to all kinds of music. One morning he even rocked out to Haydn. I called it Papa Haydn Meets Epileptic Strobe Lights.

One thing that Soren does that makes me feel all puffy with pride is say "thank you" consistently. He still needs a little prompting (okay, maybe some heavy shoving) to remember his "please"-- but "thank you" he says often and with all sincerity.

Soren's response to EVERYTHING from a clear directive ("Put your trash in the garbage") to a simple observation ("It's snowing today.") is "why?" All the time, forever and ever, it's "why?" "why?" "why?" "why?" "why?" "why?" "why?" "why?" "why?" "why?"

Also, there's a short-circuit in Soren's logic skills, as is evidenced by the following conversation types, which occur all too frequently in our home:

"Soren, if I see you take that toy away from Liam again, you'll go to your room."
"I don't want to go to my room!"
"Then don't take that toy away."
"But I want to take that toy away!"
"Then you'll have to go to your room."
"But I don't want to go to my room!"
"Then don't take that toy away."
"But I want to take that toy away!"
"Then you'll have to go to your room."
"But I don't want to go to my room!"
....ad nauseum, until Soren, bored with the argument, takes Liam's toy and has to go to his room.

I'm hoping he'll become a logical creature someday soon, 'cause right now the boy is one blob of the most intense of emotions. He never just is. He's always feeling or doing or wanting, bursting at the core with this hot magma of emotion and desire that he has little control over.

My twenty minutes is up, but I have to quickly report that he was a shockingly good little travel companion: when he and I flew to New Hampshire together he was so good that one lady even tapped me on the shoulder at the end of a long flight and said, "I would just like to commend you on your well-behaved child." And I was all, "Yeah, thanks. I'm not sure what got into him."

Oh, that little Sorenelli. I just love him and love him and love him.

With his little friend Eternity in New Hampshire.

With Grandma, wearing Auntie Amanda's Moby Wrap in Yellowstone National Park.

Participating in the long, proud Skousen family tradition of eating and reading. Sigh.
(That's a Richard Scarry book. Soren LOVES Richard Scarry.)

Playing in a cardboard box, accompanied by a demon-possessed pumpkin. Kind of freaky, I know, but you've got to pick your battles.

He got the idea for this out of the Friend magazine.

The boy loves his Duplos.

(So, not gonna lie....I did the twenty minute freewrite but couldn't help but give the a quick once over to remove any glaring errors. Then I added captions to the pictures. So the whole post took probably twenty-five minutes, instead of twenty. But still.)