Out of the mouth of my babe

A few recent comments from Biscuit:

Cowboy and ringmaster: "Mom, I'm a cowboy, and you're a ringmaster. Ringmasters are in charge. They say who gets to be on the floor. Cowboys have to go to the farm."

I don't ever want to discourage Biscuit from saying what he's thinking, but sometimes I want to look him in his pretty blue eyes and say, "What in the world are you talking about?!?"

Tacos: We had chicken tacos the other night, and Biscuit was excited. 

"Mom, I like tacos. Tacos are good for everybody. Tacos make you feel really really better." 

I sautee black beans and whole-kernel corn in olive oil and garlic to go on our tacos, and Biscuit seems to think that the black beans don't quite look like black beans.

"Mom, can I have some of that corn and blueberries on my taco?" Biscuit asked. I told him he could.

"Corn and blueberries are really, really good, Mom. I like lots of tacos."

Christmas songs: It's always amazing to me when I remember that children are not born knowing Christmas songs. They have to learn those, just like they have to learn everything else.

Biscuit's first Christmas song is "Jingle Bells." But that's not quite how he sings it.

"Mom, listen to me sing a Christmas song, 'Jinger bells, jinger bells, jinger all the way."

Good helper: Biscuit loves to help. Even taking a piece of paper to the trash can makes him very happy.

When I got home this evening, Biscuit came running to greet me.

"Mom. I'm a good helper," Biscuit said. "I help Dad with the laundry, and that was a nice thing for me to do."

"That WAS a nice thing for you to do," I said.

"Yeah, I'm a good helper, Mom. I do good things," Biscuit said.

He's a good helper, and he's humble, too!
 

He likes to be right: Like most people I know, Biscuit does not like to be wrong. Tonight, he actually argued with me.

"My horse has 10 legs, Mom," Biscuit said.

"No. All horses have 4 legs," I told him.

"No, Mom. My horse has 10 legs because he can run really fast," Biscuit said.

"Yes, your horse CAN run really fast, but he does it on 4 legs," I told Biscuit.

"My horse is the same as the 'brown cowboy' horses, and he's got 10 legs. I can count them, and nobody else can count my horse's legs because they're being quiet."

Wait a minute, did my 3-year-old son just tell me to shut up?!? Yes, I believe he did.

I asked Biscuit to bring over one of his horses, and we counted its legs. When I pointed to each leg and let Biscuit count, his total came to 4. But when Biscuit held the horse and counted, 6 extra legs made their way in there somehow.

"See, Mom? See? I told you. I told you that. My horse has 10 legs."

Oh, and just for good measure, throw in the fact that Biscuit can't pronounce his L's, which means he was arguing about "wegs."

Blessing the food: Friday night, we took my parents to a diner near our house. Jeff, Biscuit and I ordered breakfast food. Biscuit loves the silver dollar pancakes. 

My parents both ordered off the dinner menu. They each got a small garden salad before their entrees came out.

"Can you say the blessing, Biscuit?" my Mama asked.

Biscuit looked around the table and had a bit of a frown on his face.

"There are no pancakes here, Grandmama. I don't have any pancakes," he said.

Biscuit thought he only said the blessing once he had his own food. I guess nobody else's food needs a prayer.