Out of the mouth of my babe

A few things Biscuit is saying these days:

Excuses: Biscuit finds all kinds of reasons when you ask him why he's crying or upset. A few of them are: "I need a nap." "I'm tired." "I hurt something." "Something hurts." "My weg hurts." "I hurt my arm."

Pickin' up chicks: I don't know whether to be scared or impressed by his confidence, but as we were walking through the shoe department the other day, Biscuit saw this pretty girl, who was probably in her early 20s.

"What's your name?" he asked her and smiled.

She looked at him and got this HUGE smile. "My name is Samantha. What's your name?"

"My name is Griffin," he said with absolutely no hint of shyness.

The girl looked at me and said, "He is SO cute!"

Then on another recent night, we were heading into a restaurant as a woman and her 3-year-old granddaughter were heading out.

As they walked past us, Biscuit said, "Hey, it's me, Griffin."

The little girl's grandma said, "That is so sweet. Did you hear him?"

"What's your name?" Biscuit asked the little girl. The little girl wasn't talking, so the grandma told Biscuit the little girl's name. Biscuit looked up at the grandma, then right back at the little girl. It was almost like he couldn't figure out why the little girl wouldn't talk to him.

I told Biscuit we needed to head into the restaurant. "See you later," Biscuit said and waved.

I would love to see Biscuit hold on to that confidence and personality.

Firefighter quiz: Biscuit and I pass a fire station every morning on the way to day care. We have to try to find the firetrucks. If they're sitting outside, it's a HUGE deal. If we can't see them, we say they're still sleeping in the fire station. Or as Biscuit says it, they're still "sweeping."

If we see them, we have to ask each other questions. I start.

"What color was that fire truck?" I ask. He answers red.

Then he asks a question. "When the firefighters rescue anybody and they have to climb something, what is it?"

I make a couple of incorrect answers before I give him the right one. It goes like this:

Me: Um, do firefighters climb a chair?
Biscuit: Noooooo.
Me: Um, do they climb a tree?
Biscuit: Noooooo.
Me: Ooo. Do they climb a ladder?
Biscuit: Yeah. The cwimb a wadder. Good answer, Mom. You got it. You got it right.

Then I ask another question, like "What do firefighters use to put out fires?

"Um, wet's see, a hose?" Biscuit says.

"That's right, a hose." I say.

Then it's Biscuit's turn again.

"The firefighters rescue anybody. When they rescue anybody, what do they climb?" Biscuit asks.

Every time it's his turn to ask a question, he asks the same question with slightly different wording. And every time, I guess a couple of wrong answers before I get it right.

What can I say, it amuses him, and it makes us talk to each other all the way to day care.