Out of the mouth of my babe

A few recent comments from Biscuit:
 

Doggie: "Fetch, Boy. Go get it," Biscuit said to his little plastic dog. 

It's a white and brown dog on a leash. As Biscuit pulls the dog by the leash, he makes a squeaky little sound that's supposed to be a bark.

"Mom, can you pet my dog? He's soft," Biscuit said as he rubbed the dog's plastic head.

"Wow. He IS soft," I said to Biscuit. "What's your doggie's name?"

"He's named Boy," Biscuit said. "You know, like, 'Come on, Boy.'"

Biscuit started walking and pulling his doggie behind him. He took a corner a little too sharp, and his dog fell over.

"Oh, no! My doggie fell down," Biscuit said. "Can you help him, Mom? You're Dog Doctor."

"Okay, bring him to me," I told Biscuit. He brought the doggie over, and I messed around with him for a few seconds, then I said to Biscuit, "Okay, he's all better."

"Thanks, Dog Doctor. He's really, really better now," Biscuit said.

 

Farm animals: "Mom, this is a horse. Horses are farm animals. Cows and pigs are farm animals, too." Then he held up a frog. "Frogs are not farm animals. They're hoppity animals. They hop, hop, hop. They're hoppity."

Bring on the rock 'n' roll: Jeff and Biscuit went out to dinner tonight. As they were eating, Biscuit said, "Dad, I don't like this music. This music is too quiet. The restaurant music is too quiet, Dad. Can you ask them to play some rock 'n' roll?"

You can't be offended: In the past week, my son has called me "The Man," a pig, a dog and a monster.

You might think that I would be terribly offended, but instead of jumping to the conclusion that my son is being rude, I have to wait and hear him out.

"Mom, you're The Man," Biscuit said to me. I said OK and asked him what the man was supposed to do. "The Man turns the movie on so we can watch it. You can turn the movie on, Man?"

On another day, Biscuit was talking about farm animals and said, "Mom, you're a pig." Again, you can't assume that he's being rude. You have to wait for the explanation. "I'm a horse. Naaaay. Naaaay. What do you say, Mom?" And that's my cue to snort, grunt and say "oink."

My only complaint is that the worst thing Jeff has been called is "customer." Biscuit said, "Dad, you're the customer, and I'm the helper." Biscuit paused for a minute, then said, "How can I help you, customer?"

Maybe I'll tell Biscuit that Dad wants to play jungle, and that he really wants to be a snake!