As promised, here are a few photos from our trip to Great Wolf Lodge. The first is an image of Super Sophie – whose muscles rival those of Popeye’s as she lifts an inner tube over her head.

The second (taken by our nascent photographer, Chloe) gives you a good idea of the craziness of the slides. The blue one was everyone’s favorite, hands-down.

We arrived just at opening this morning, and for about two minutes, Sophie had the “beach” all to herself.

Chloe spent a good deal of time practicing for her future as Tarzan’s Jane.

Finally, there was also a fort. The fort provided hours of fun to kids who thought it a hoot to dump buckets of water on passersby down below. And there are a lot of buckets to dump.

Yes, the two girls are fighting over the “piano.” And, no it’s not that Chloe is demonstrating supergirl strength. For now, our piano is still the miniature keyboard with 30 or so keys. And both girls carry it around the house like books.

Sophie and Chloe were having a bit of a scuffle over use of the toy. It goes without saying that whenever Chloe sits down to practice, Sophie is suddenly interested in banging on the keys as well. This inevitably leads to screaming and crying.

Today, however, the screaming led to playing, when Chloe started to hold the keyboard out of Sophie’s reach. Sophie loved this new game, and came up with all sorts of ruses to grab the piano – jumping, a chair lift, stretching…you name it, she tried it. And instead of tears, there were lots of laughs.

Seeing as though I discussed Sophie’s fruit issues yesterday, I figured I’d continue along the same theme tonight and discuss her major issues with multi-vitamins.

I have a pharmacy of kids multi-vitamins in the house, none of which Sophie will eat. Dora, Disney princess, traditional circular prescription vitamins, etc. I also purchased vitamins at Whole Foods – “organic” vitamins. I should have known better. I was afraid they’d be inedible, and indeed, they were absolutely horrendous. I mean, really – kids’ vitamins that taste like fish oil? Needless to say, the bottle of solidified fish oil went immediately into the garbage.

The other bottles, however, reside on the window sill in the kitchen – and I look at them longingly everyday – “Maybe she’ll eat one today,” I hope against hope. And Sophie inevitably teases me. “I’ll have a princess vitmin (sic), Mom.” I obligingly behead one of the princesses (because of her age, she can only eat 1/2 of a vitamin per day) and present it to her on a platter (ok, not literally on a platter, but with a lot of love). She looks at it – she sometimes licks it – makes a funny face and announces, “No vitmin (sic), Mom.”

The only vitamins she’ll eat are what she calls the “baby vitmins (sic).” They are miniature fluoride tablets, and she likes them because they’re cute. I need to find out if multi-vitamins come in miniature versions, too. I will stop at nothing for my children, even if it means making the goddamn vitamins myself…

Sophie is fairly funny – and she doesn’t mean to be – at least not always. Today’s funniness stemmed from her use of an ever-increasing vocabulary.

While in the bath a little earlier, Chloe was having a conversation with a green action figure – a Transformer-type monstrosity that she likes to play with from time to time. She was diligently trying to get the green thing comfortably relaxing in one of her toy boats, and repeatedly said, “That’s stupendous!” The problem is that she has no idea what ‘stupendous’ means. When I explained to her that it was a nice word that meant ‘great’ or ‘fantastic,” Sophie protested mightily. “No it doesn’t. It’s mean.” “Sophie, ‘stupendous’ isn’t a mean word, it’s a nice word. It doesn’t mean ‘stupid.” “Yes, it does, Mommy.” There’s really no arguing with an almost-3 year old.

A little later, Sophie wanted me to put on her long-sleeved winter long johns. Of course, she wants to wear these on the warmest evening of the summer. It was my turn to protest mightily, but my little one is an insistent little bugger. We actually compromised – I told her she could wear the top, but not the bottoms. That it would be sufficient for her to sleep in underwear. She actually liked that somewhat subversive idea. But when I put on the top, she started to complain that it was too small. Indeed, it was a little tight in the arms. I asked if she wanted to change into something else, but she was reluctant. I told her she was growing, and getting bigger by the day. “Like a giant!” she exclaimed.

At which point, I explained that no, she wasn’t a giant, but a growing girl who was a lot taller than she was when I first bought those pyjamas a few months ago. “No, like a giant!” she repeated excitedly, pointing at her ceiling for effect. When she saw that I was not agreeing with her, she moderated her stance and said, “big like you, Mommy?” “Yes, big like me,” I replied. Giant=Mommy. I don’t know whether I should be insulted or proud.