Small changes, big fun

Last Saturday, Biscuit and I met a friend and her little boy at a park for some play time and some rides. And we lucked out. The park was having some sort of children's day, and all the rides were free until 2 p.m. 

We found this out when we went to the ticket window and found it shut and locked. I asked about tickets at the concession stand, and she told us about the free rides. For some reason, Biscuit was quite excited about free rides and made up a quick little "no tickets" song and dance, much to the amusement of my friend and me.

We've been to this park before, and Biscuit enjoyed it very much. And if you look back at the photos, you'll see Biscuit on the very same cars on the very same rides ... the red boat ... always a horse on the carousel ... the red fire helicopter ... and the red firetruck.

We rode the carousel three times, and two of those times, Biscuit's insistence on riding only a horse meant that he spent the whole ride stationary. No going up and down.

And when he went on the red firetruck, he knew exactly what it was going to be like. And when he went on the red fire helicopter, it was the same as the last time he rode the red helicopter.

Creature of habit ... lover of routine ... connoisseur of the comfort zone ... wait a minute, am I talking about Biscuit or me?

I'm talking about both. Sometimes the very things that frustrate you about yourself show up just as strong in your kids. And boy did Biscuit get a big dose.

Biscuit's daycare teacher shared a funny story with me a couple of weeks ago. I mentioned something about Biscuit's love of routine, and she said the second day Biscuit was there, it got to be naptime, and she pulled out all the cots. Each cot has a kid's name written on it, so they have the same one every day. All the sheets get washed, so it's sort of a free-for-all with kids grabbing sheets out of the laundry basket.

Biscuit's teacher turned around to find Biscuit with tears filling his eyes.

"What's wrong?" she asked him, thinking he was scared to be taking a nap on his second day.

"This is not my sheet," Biscuit told her.

She finally got Biscuit to calm down enough to explain to her that the sheet he pulled out of the basket wasn't the sheet he had used on his first day there. And clearly, he's always supposed to have the same sheet.

The other kids didn't care which sheets they had, so Biscuit's teacher let him walk around and find the sheet he had the day before. And since that day, Biscuit gets to pick out his sheet first.

I struggle with this because part of me wants to say, "Suck it up, it's just a sheet." But a bigger part of me knows the anxiety Biscuit feels when things aren't like he thinks they should be. I'm trying to work with Biscuit on expanding his comfort zone, and I think knowing how he feels helps me have more patience with him.

So once Biscuit had gotten stuck twice on a horse that didn't move, I suggested that for our third time, we get on and ride the first animals we could find that moved up and down. I talked it up like it was a game, and Biscuit seemed excited about it.

But alas, the fates were not with me. The first animals we got to that moved up and down ... WERE HORSES!!!

But what I said to Biscuit about the carousel must have sunk in because he asked to ride the helicopter ride again, but this time, he got into an airplane. And then he rode in a blue truck instead of the red firetruck on the other ride.

There were also some inflatables set up just for the day -- a bounce house and a giant slide that Biscuit climbed and went down without hesitation.

And the day wouldn't have been complete without a little time on the playground. Biscuit is still so little that he gets a frustrated when he sees kids climbing parts of the playground that he still struggles with. But he mastered a funky-looking ladder that he's never been able to climb before, and if I hadn't been so busy celebrating with him, I could've snapped a picture of the proud smile he wore when he did it. But as much as I'd love to have it captured in a photo, I wouldn't trade that for swapping high-fives and his look of satisfaction.

Biscuit and I were tired by the time we left, but we had a nice morning.

This is the ladder he finally climbed. See what a stretch it is for him?
But he made it all the way up and stepped onto the platform to go slide.

See my tiny baby in the giant jaws of the tiger?

Look how happy he was from stepping out of the helicopter and onto a plane.

All the way from Scotland

One of my friends just returned home from a couple of weeks in Scotland.

I was very jealous of her trip, but I'm so glad she got to go. She went to a lot of trouble to make plans and get everything ready. So I told her to take lots of pictures so I could live vicariously through her.

And she did.

She also brought home presents. And who am I to turn down fun gifts? Especially when said gifts are from my motherland?

We picked her up at the airport Saturday, and as soon as we met her, she handed Biscuit a bag.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's a gift for you," she said.

He opened the bag and looked inside like something was going to bite him. So I reached in and pulled out a pajama shirt. On the front of it was a British fireman from a cartoon TV show that Biscuit loves. He has a DVD with four episodes, and now he has a pair of pajamas from the land where he lives.

"FIREMAN SAM!!!!" Biscuit yelled, right there in the airport.

When we picked up my friend, it was about 6:30 p.m., which would be 11:30 p.m. in Scotland. I know she was exhausted, but on the drive to her house, she answered questions from Biscuit, Jeff and me.

I'm looking forward to hearing more about her trip, but I figured I'd give her a few days to get settled back in the U.S.

As we were leaving her house, she stuck her hand in her pants pocket and grabbed out a handful of change.

"Give these to Biscuit," she said, handing me the coins. I told her it was too much, but she insisted Biscuit have them.

When we got home that evening, Biscuit said, "Mom, do you have my coins?"

"Yes, they're in my pocket," I said.

"Can you take them out and let's play Scotland store?" he asked.

"Sure," I told him.

Biscuit picked up a toy he wanted to buy and brought it over to me. I don't know what any of the coins are called, so when Biscuit asked, "How much does this cost?" my answer was always, "Um, two of these and one of these," as I grabbed a few coins.

Here's Biscuit in his new pajamas, and below that is his Scotland shopping money.

Being a firefighter is serious business.

And yes, he's packing an ax on his hip.

I don't know which money is which, but at our Scotland store,
a baseball costs two of those big brown ones and a little silver one.

Recent photos

For some reason, I can't get photos to post on the blog with my usual web browser. So I'm in another browser, and I'll catch you up on some photos from the past couple of weeks.

Week before last was National Week of the Young Child, so
Biscuit's day care had theme days. Monday was Western Day.
He wore his cowboy outfit and carried one of his cowboy books.

Thursday was Back to the Future Day. Biscuit was, as Jeff
told him to say, "Kickin' it old school" with 1980s-themed attire.

Biscuit got this Easter card from his aunt, uncle and cousins. It's been laying on the
kitchen table since he got it, but last week, he decided it was time to do the activities.
It was also Athletics Day at day care, so he's wearing his Yankees shirt.

Last weekend, Jeff and I painted the bathroom. But before we could paint, we
had to clean all the dust out of there. There was a thick layer of tile dust on
everything, so I went in with some soap and water and started washing the cabinets.
Biscuit walked in as I was using a cotton swab to clean the hinges on the
cabinet. And he thought I was cleaning everything with a cotton swab.

Oh, the help. I got so, so much help!

Out of the mouth of my babe

A few things Biscuit has said recently:


Word play: Jeff and Biscuit were drawing on Biscuit's chalkboard the other night and Biscuit couldn't figure out what Jeff was drawing.

"What the heck? What the heck, Dad?" Biscuit said.

I think it caught Jeff off guard because Biscuit has never said that before. So when he heard "What the he-," he sort of flinched, thinking Biscuit was going to say something other than "heck."

"Why did you say that?" Jeff asked.
 
"Dad, do you know why I said, 'What in the heck?'" Biscuit said. "Because it's another word for something else."

"What is it another word for?" Jeff asked.

"Dad! Saying 'What the heck' is another way to say, 'What in the world.'"





Start your engines: "Mom, what is the kind of racing when the cars go in two lanes at the same time?" Biscuit asked me.

"It's DRAG racing," I told him. A little time went by, and Biscuit came into the kitchen where I was.

"What is it, Mom? Dragon racing?" he asked.

"No, DRAG racing," I said.

"Do they have dragon races, Mom?" Biscuit asked me.

"Well, remember how we talked about dragons just being in books and movies? Well, that means you can have dragon races in books and movies, but not in real life," I explained.

"Oh, yeah," Biscuit said. "Dragons are just pretend, Mom. ... But dragon races would be cool, huh?"

"Definitely!" I said.





Timing is everything: Jeff and I will celebrate our 10th next week, and I thought it might be a good time to get prints of our wedding pictures.

Yep, that's right. I have not printed our wedding pictures from 10 years ago!

Well, I did print some of the photos to make albums for my Mama and Jeff's Mom. And our pictures are digital, so I can look at them on my computer. But I'd like to have an album. Especially because we have two albums specifically for our wedding photos.

So tonight, I started looking through the pictures, and Biscuit came over to see them.

"Mom, that's you in your fancy dress at your wedding," Biscuit said.

"Yes, it is," I said. "It rained that morning, and it looked like it was going to rain again, but we didn't care. We went out in the sand anyway."


"Mom, I wish I could've been at your wedding," Biscuit said, looking kind of pouty.

"Well, you weren't born yet, so you couldn't come," I said.

"But if I had been born, you would've let me come?" Biscuit asked.

"Yes," I told him. "If you had been born, you could've come to my wedding."



And not that I said it him, but I'm pretty sure Grandmama was happy that Biscuit WASN'T at my wedding.

A few random things

Here are a few random Biscuit stories:

Here comes Trouble: Biscuit loves to play games, so as I perused the toy aisle the other night, I found Pop-o-matic Trouble. Remember that one?

Each player picks a color and has four pegs to move around the board. There's a bubble in the middle of the game board that each player pops to spin a die. Whatever number it lands on, that's how far you move your peg. The first one to get all his pegs back to his side wins.

The game says it's for ages 5 and up, but I figured if we fudged the rules a little bit, Biscuit would be fine.

Biscuit was so excited. And of course, he asked to be red. We started out with one peg each, and Biscuit won. Jeff and I looked at each other because we don't let Biscuit win, but even if we wanted to, there's really no way to make that happen with this game. You pop the bubble and move that many times. That's it.

Tonight, we added a second peg into the mix. And Biscuit beat us in three games. He has won every game we've played. And of course, Jeff and I want to win because Biscuit is a bad sport when he loses, and we're working hard to change that. But we have nothing to work with if he wins all the time!


A bed-full: We have been so very lucky with Biscuit and his sleeping. He transferred from his crib to his toddler bed with no drama, and he has loved that bed ever since.

Since he moved into his toddler bed, we've been putting a baby gate at his door. Mainly because when you get to the top of our staircase, there's a loft area with a railing that overlooks the living room. We didn't want him to have access to that or the stairs during the night, especially because Jeff had some sleepwalking episodes when he was a kid, and we didn't know if there would be a chance for Biscuit to follow suit.

We've also been very lucky with the bathroom stuff. Biscuit potty-trained really easily, and since then, he's had one accident in bed. That's it.

So a couple of weeks ago, Biscuit said he was worried that he might need to go to the bathroom sometime at night, and he couldn't go because of the gate at his door. Jeff and I talked about it and decided we'd move the gate from his doorway to the top of the stairs. That would give Biscuit straight-shot access to the bathroom.

The next morning, Biscuit came walking into our bedroom.

"How did you get past the gate?" I asked him.

"I just moved it," Biscuit said. So Jeff and I decided to do away with the gate altogether.

Biscuit hasn't fall down the stairs, and as far as I know, he hasn't stumbled into a closet thinking it was the bathroom to take care of business.

But the other night, I heard him coming down the stairs. It made me a little nervous because the only light is a small nightlight at the bottom of the stairs. He made it down safely and came into mine and Jeff's bedroom.

"Are you okay?" I asked him. I'm not sure what he was trying to tell me, but he was talking gibberish. He wasn't making any sense. I told him to crawl in our bed with us, and he barely made it in before he was asleep again.

The next morning, Jeff went upstairs to get Biscuit's clothes, and he noticed that his bedside lamp was on. So he talked to Biscuit about it.

"Do you remember what happened last night? Did you have a bad dream?" Jeff asked him.

"No. I didn't have a bad dream, Dad," Biscuit said. "I just woke up, and it was dark, and I was by myself."

"Do you get scared in the dark all the time?" Jeff asked him.

"No. Just sometimes, Dad," Biscuit said. "I'm not scared all the time, but sometimes I don't want to be alone."

I'm glad I wasn't having that conversation with him because I would've just cried right there. The thought of him being scared anytime upsets me. But on the other hand, it makes me feel good that when Biscuit got scared, his first step was to turn on his bedside lamp. Then I can imagine him saying, "Well, that didn't work. I'm going to get Mom and Dad."

Jeff ended up moving to the couch at some point that night because Biscuit is not a fun bed partner. He tends to take up way more room than a person his size ought to. Jeff didn't have to work the next day, so he took one for the team and hit the couch.



And I did worry the next night, wondering if Biscuit's trip downstairs was a one-time thing or if he would come down again. But he stayed upstairs, and he's been fine since then.

 
That's not funny: Biscuit loves getting mail with his name on it. He does a little dance right there at the mailbox. So when a friend of mine told me she was going to Scotland, I asked her if she'd send Biscuit a postcard. While we were talking about it, another friend overheard our conversation and asked if she could send Biscuit a letter. I told her of course she could, and her letter came the other day.

My friend had gone online and searched for "jokes for 4-year-olds" and included several of them in her letter.

They were along the lines of ...

What do cows do on the weekend?
They go to mooooooovies.

She had no way of knowing this, but Biscuit doesn't get jokes yet. He does know, however, that it is socially appropriate to laugh at a joke. So when I said, "Hey, she included some jokes in your letter," he would wait until I started reading one, then he would just start laughing like crazy.

The whole thing made me laugh because Biscuit wasn't laughing at the punchline. He would just start laughing at random times during the jokes. Because he knew he was supposed to.

He's been trying to get it since then, and he keeps asking us to tell him jokes -- knock-knocks and other kinds.

My favorite knock-knock joke as a kid was ...

Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Banana.
Banana who?
Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Banana.
Banana who?
Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Orange.
Orange who?
Orange you glad I didn't say banana again?

Biscuit tried to replicate the joke for Jeff tonight during bathtime.

Here's his verion ... 


Knock, knock. 
Who's there? 
Banana ... banana ... banana ... apple. It's a good thing I didn't say banana again.

And he laughed and laughed and laughed.

Two boys

We had a second son for the evening, and we really enjoyed it. A friend of ours needed a fill-in sitter, and we were happy to help out.

I fastened the little boy into Biscuit's car seat for the trip to our house. He's a year younger than Biscuit, but he's about the same height, so Biscuit's car seat fit him just right. He said, "I like his car seat. It's in the middle. My seat goes over there." And he pointed to the back seat on the passenger side of the car. He also told me that the fastener button on his car seat is a square, and Biscuit's is a crescent. But crescents are not his favorite shape. He likes circles and stars.

Then we talked about favorite colors. I told him that mine and Biscuit's favorite color is red, and Jeff's is green. Then he told me that his Mom's favorite color is red, and his dad's is green. Hmmm. I wonder if that's true or if someone was just following a pattern?

We talked about the cars we saw on the road. We talked about how many trees we saw. Then we talked about traffic jams. And every time we stopped at a red light, he started to read the letters on the street signs. We never actually sat at a red light long enough for him to read a whole sign.

We got home a few seconds before Jeff pulled into the driveway with Biscuit, and once Biscuit was out of the car, it was like the starting pistol fired at a race. They were off!

I didn't have to play baseball or trains or cowboys or firefighters or trucks and cars or anything. Those boys kept each other occupied the entire night.

The only problem we had was with Biscuit. He could not understand that even though the other boy is his size, he's actually a whole year younger. So Biscuit was expecting the boy to know everything he knows. About this time last year, Biscuit was still getting the hang of hide-and-seek. Now (unless the TV is on, and he forgets to come find me!), he knows to go hide (without telling you where he's going to hide), and he knows to be quiet (instead of giving hints out loud as to where he is hiding), and he knows to stay in his hiding place until someone finds him.

Our guest is not yet a hide-and-seek expert. Every time Biscuit walked past his hiding space, he would jump up and say, "I'M RIGHT HERE!"

And Biscuit got mad. And he yelled at his friend.

I pulled Biscuit off to the side and did some of that whisper-yelling to explain to him that his friend is a whole year younger, and that he needed to be more patient. After that, every time his friend would say something like, "I'm over here, under the table," Biscuit would look at me and smile, like he was in on a secret joke.

The boys played really well together, and we'd be happy to let them play together again.

Getting stuff done

About this time last weekend, I was mourning the fact that the weekend was gone, and I hadn't accomplished one single thing.

Well, other than a nap Sunday afternoon to get over a sinus headache. The nap did help my headache go away, and when I woke up, Jeff and Biscuit were walking in the front door with dinner.

This weekend was different.

First of all, I was determined to get something, ANYthing done. Secondly, we're going on vacation soon, and next weekend will be our last one before our trip. I'd like to spend that weekend getting ready for our trip without having to rush last minute.

Our bathroom remodel hit a snag a couple of weeks ago. It's all done except for the glass around the shower. Our contractor ordered the glass, but then he got an email saying the glass he ordered had been discontinued. I'm not sure why glass would be discontinued, but since everything else with the remodel has gone so well, I'm not complaining.

Jeff and I decided that we'd save some money and paint the bathroom ourselves, and this was the weekend. The problem was that because the workers cut all the tile inside the bathroom, everything in there was covered in a fine layer of dust. 

We got new hardware for the vanity, so I removed all 11 of the cabinet and drawer pulls. Then I got out the wood soap and scrubbed the big, long vanity.

As long as I was down there, I figured I'd clean out my cabinets under my sink. There were a lot of "Oh, yeah, I forgot about this" moments.

While I was sitting in the floor, I noticed that the baseboards were coated in dust, too. So I scrubbed those. Then I realized how dusty the floor was, so I used the Floor setting on the vacuum and cleaned it.

I was also doing several loads of laundry in and amongst the other things.

Jeff taped off the tile, cabinets and moldings in the bathroom yesterday evening, and we put on two coats of paint today. We went with a pretty green with just a hint of blue, called Watermark.

In retrospect, it doesn't sound like I had that many irons in the fire, but I didn't cut any corners, especially in the bathroom. It looks really nice in there.

So unlike about this time last weekend, I am tired and ready for bed. After having made some real accomplishments in our house. I even got the boy's approval.

"Mom, this all looks very, very nice," Biscuit told me.

A good move

When Biscuit was younger, I really struggled to not compare him to other babies his age and even those little charts that say what a baby of each age should be doing or not doing.

It was never a one-up kind of thing, where my kid had to be better than all the other kids. It was more about my own insecurities as a mother, and making sure that I was helping him to be where he needed to be physically, intellectually and emotionally. I wanted to make sure that he was learning and growing in every aspect of his life.

And he has learned and grown.

Biscuit is a smart boy with a great sense of humor. He's also very loving and sensitive to other people's feelings. And one of my favorite things about him is his ability to laugh at himself. I hope he keeps that quality alive and well for the rest of his life. It will serve him well.

This afternoon, Biscuit said, "Mom, I think I'll be a mad-ician."

"A what?" I asked him.

"You know, someone who does magic," he said. He paused for a few seconds, then he started laughing.

"What's so funny?" I asked him.

"Mom, I'm so silly," he said. "If I can do magic, I would be magician, not a mad-ician." And he laughed and laughed. "It's J sound, not a D sound."

And he didn't care that I was laughing at him, either. He knew it was funny, and he didn't feel at all self-conscious about saying something incorrectly then laughing at himself.

Moving Biscuit to a new day care was scary for me. I had such confidence in the old day care for so long, and with good reason. They were really good to him the first three years of his life. But when I suspected that he wasn't flourishing there as I thought he should be, I assumed I was just overthinking it, and that I was probably overreacting. I probably left him there longer than I should have, but I guess I thought I was betraying the care he had been given so far.

It's amazing how many times I've told friends and other mothers to trust their gut when they're making decisions. And then I don't follow my own advice.

But when I finally knew without a doubt that it was time for Biscuit to go somewhere else, I felt a great sense of relief. Mainly just because I had made the decision. And that was even before we found a new place to send him.

Biscuit is flourishing at his new day care. He's only been going there for two months, and I've seen real progress in just that short amount of time.

Before he left the old day care, he still hadn't decided which hand to write with. In the past month at his new day care, he has learned to write his first name. He's also learned some basic math skills and is recognizing three-digit numbers. We were walking through a home improvement store the other day, and Biscuit said to Jeff, "Dad, that lawn mower costs 169." He didn't associated it with dollars, but just recognizing the number is something new.

Biscuit has learned the Hokey-Pokey. He can sing "Yankee Doodle." He has tried all kinds of new foods. He has learned about Scotland. And of course he has new friends. His teachers are really nice, too. His current teacher is mad because when they get too many kids in his class (anything more than 10 kids compared to anything more than 20 at his old day care), they send Biscuit to the pre-K class. And she makes a fuss about them taking Biscuit away.

So I guess I say all of this to make the point that I need to heed my own advice and trust my gut. I know that baby better than anyone on this Earth, so who better to know what's best for him than me?

Now someone be sure to remind me of that the next time I have to make a decision.

First blood

We got Biscuit's first incident report today. I had to read it over and sign at the bottom saying they told me all about it.

But there are three sides of the story.

1. The director says Biscuit fell down on the playground and skinned his knee.
2. Biscuit says a kid ran past him and knocked him down. And he did it on purpose.
3. The teacher, who was outside with them, said the kids were all running around and Biscuit and another kid ran into each other. Biscuit fell down and skinned his knee.

Now, if I were to put down a bet on this whole scenario, I'd say that all three of the above statements are true. I'm guessing some part of each person's story is how it all happened.

Believe it or not, Biscuit has never had a skinned knee.

He has busted his poor little face up. He's busted his lip more than once. He's bitten his tongue hard enough to bleed. He's had a black eye. He's had bruises on his chin and the side of his face. And he's had bruises on his forehead from running into things.

He's scraped the palms of his hands. He's bruised his back by falling off of things. He has several bruises on his shins right now from who knows what.

But his knees have been pristine until today.

I wish I could've taken video of him walking this evening. He held his injured leg perfectly straight as he walked. He looked like a cross between Frankenstein and Grandpa McCoy on "The Real McCoys."

Poor little man.

It sounded good

A post from The Daddy Man:

Kimmy went to dinner tonight with one of her friends, so I decided to take Biscuit to a baseball game.

Today was Western Day at day care, so Biscuit was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, topped off by his suede vest and chaps, and of course his boots and cowboy hat.

When I picked him up from day care, I told him we'd go home and change his clothes, then we'd go to the ballgame. But Biscuit said he didn't want to change his clothes. He said he wanted to go to the ballgame wearing all his cowboy clothes.

So he did.

Biscuit was a little antsy during the game, so I took him to the playground for a little while, then we walked around the ballpark.

Everything was going okay until the ninth inning. Our guys were down 8-6, and Biscuit announced that he needed to make poo.

He and I went into the bathroom, and then I heard the crowd go crazy. I knew it had to be something good. And I was right.

One of our guys hit a home run and brought two other guys in, bringing the score to 9-8.

Biscuit made poo, and we won the game. It was a win-win.

Biscuit on wheels

I'm taking an online photo class, and as we're learning about different aspects of our cameras and photography in general, I've been playing around with settings and subjects, but mostly Biscuit.

This week, we talked about shutter speed and basically how to stop motion in photos without them being blurry. And the opposite, too, trying to take more artful photos with trailing lights or nighttime photos.

There's an overpass near our house that doesn't have any on- or off-ramps, so I went out there this evening and took some pictures of cars coming and going.

Like this ...

Earlier in the evening, Biscuit agreed to be the subject of my photos. Mainly because he knew he would get to ride his vehicles -- his scooter and his Big Wheel-like tricycle.

Here's what I got ...

Riding his scooter is serious business.

Out of the mouth of my babe

A few things Biscuit has said recently:


Good, better, best: Biscuit has been using a lot of comparison words lately, but sometimes he doesn't get them quite right.

We were playing cowboys and rodeo the other day, and Biscuit said his cowboys had to go round up the bucking broncos and the bulls. He doesn't have any toy bulls, so he grabbed a couple of his horses and said we would pretend they were bulls.

"Mom, look at this one," Biscuit said. "It's the muchest bull you've ever seen."

He's also said:

• "Mom, this is the goodest pizza ever."
• "Mom, you're the bestest cooker ever."

His fortune said: We had Chinese food tonight, and Biscuit was excited about seeing what his fortune said.

Jeff read it to him. It said, "Keep your feet on the ground even though friends flatter you."





Then Jeff said, "Go tell Mama what your fortune said."
 
So Biscuit came running into the living room and said, "Mommy, guess what my fortune said? It said 'Keep your feet on the ground or your friends will splatter you.'"

A firefighter walks into a ballgame

Biscuit wore a new shirt this morning. It's a very cool shirt he got for his birthday.

The director and assistant director of Biscuit's day care made a big fuss over him. And so did his teacher. He apparently went around putting out fires all day. And how could he not with all that equipment right at his fingertips?

I picked up Biscuit from day care and told him that we were going to a baseball game. He was really excited and said he thought there was a fire at the ballfield, and we needed to go put it out. So we jumped into our firetruck/car and headed back downtown for the game. Tonight was the first home game for the minor league baseball team in our town. Jeff had to cover it, so Biscuit and I went to hang out, too.

The game was fun, and our team won. Biscuit watched the whole game (and did a lot of dancing to the snippets of songs they played during inning changes. He got to sing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." He always loves that. And thanks to his father, after the song was over, he said, "Mom, some of those people said 'Crackerjacks.' There's not an S on the end." And he's right. It was just really funny to me that he heard it and commented on it.

Somewhere along the line, Biscuit has learned some new things to yell at games. The ones I heard tonight were:

• "Way to go boys."
• "That's the way to do it."
• "That's a good hit right there."
• "Look at him go!"
• And the grand final was when the team won: "Those are my BOYS, Mom!"

There was a big fireworks show after the game. Biscuit loves fireworks, but not the noise. He puts his hands over his ears, then wants me to put my hands over his hands over his ears.







As Biscuit and I walked to the car, we passed a couple of police cars with their roof lights on. One of the officers walked over thinking I needed something. I said, "I just had to bring him over to look at the cars."

The officer looked at Biscuit, then looked back at me. "The first thing we've got to do is get him a different shirt," the officer said.

"Sorry, but firefighters are his first love," I told him. "The men in blue come in second place."

So the officer went around to the inside of his car and turned on ALL the lights. The whole car looked like one big strobe light. Biscuit thought that was very cool.

We got in our car and sat and waited as the parking lot cleared out.

Biscuit let out a big sigh and said, "Mom, this was a baseball adventure!"

A year ago

Time slipped up on me tonight, and my bed time is here already. So instead of a regular post, I'll share a picture of Biscuit from this time last year.

This picture makes me smile because we were in the backyard playing baseball, and as Biscuit walked back across the yard, he had that look on his face of being a man on a mission. Serious business.

Date night and pirates

I planned a date for Jeff and me tonight, and two of our friends were kind enough to stay with Biscuit while we went out.

There's a theater in town that plays old movies. And this isn't just a movie theater. It's a theater-theater where they have plays and musicians and all sorts of performances. So there are statues and velvet curtains and chandeliers and lounges instead of bathrooms. It's a really pretty place.

Anyway, they were showing "Casablanca," and that's Jeff's favorite movie. So I asked our friends to babysit without telling Jeff about it.

And then came breaking news.

And it was the next step in a story that Jeff has been covering since the beginning.

Of course I couldn't just plan something and have it work out. That's not possible!

So I left our office downtown and drove out to pick up Biscuit from day care. As we were getting out of the car at home, Biscuit picked up a pair of old sunglasses and put them on.

"Mom, I think there's something wrong with these," he said and turned his head toward me.

"I should say so," I told him. "One of the lenses is missing."

"That's okay, Mom," he said. "I'll just be a pirate, and this can be my eye patch. Aaarrrgggg!"

I ordered pizza for Biscuit and the sitters, then I called Jeff to check in. There was no way he'd have time to come home then get back downtown in time for the movie. So I changed my clothes and headed back downtown by myself.

Driving myself to a movie was not quite what I had in mind for date night.

But I got into the theater in plenty of time, bought my popcorn and joined Jeff on the front row of the balcony. The announcer told about the other movies they'll be showing soon ("To Kill a Mockingbird," "Gone with the Wind" and "Guns of Navarone"), then he said, "and also ... no kissing in the balcony!"

Some date night!

The movie was great, and seeing it on the big screen was really nice. It's funny how all those classic lines sound cheesy when people quote them, but when you see them in context in the movie, they're perfect.

Biscuit had a great time with his sitters. They brought him a rescue helicopter (that of course makes all kinds of obnoxious noises!), and when I told Biscuit they were leaving, he got all worried and said in a low voice, "But I don't want to give my helicopter back."

"They gave that to you as a gift," I told him. And then he was fine.

The evening wasn't quite what I planned, but Jeff and I had a couple of hours together in a dark theater, sitting with our elbows touching (and occasionally holding hands, but don't tell!) and watching a great movie. So you won't hear me complaining.

All's well that ends well

My son found my last nerve and jumped up and down repeatedly on it this evening.

He wouldn't listen. He wouldn't do what I told him to do. He pushed and poked and prodded until I was ready to shake him.

I told him to take his clothes off so he could get in the bathtub. Simple enough.

Five minutes later, I walked out of the bathroom to find him playing on his train table.

After his bath, I told him to climb up on the bed so I could put lotion on his dry skin. And then I told him to get up on the bed so I could put lotion on his dry skin. AND THEN I TOLD HIM TO GET UP ON THE BED SO I COULD PUT LOTION ON HIS DRY SKIN!

I finally snatched him up and put him on the bed myself. And he didn't like that.

It was really warm here today, and it's going to be warm overnight. So I got a pair of pajamas with a long-sleeved shirt and long pants.

"Mom, my jammies don't have feet," Biscuit whined.

"You don't need feet," I said. "It's warm."

"But my feet are going to be cold," Biscuit whined some more. "I can't sleep if my feet are cold."

I didn't respond to him. I just kept putting on his pajamas.

"I don't like cold feet, Mom," Biscuit said.

"Are my footed jammies all dirty, Mom?" Biscuit asked.

"I really like the jammies with the feet," Biscuit said.

Ugh!

"It's warm enough to wear jammies without feet," I said. "If your feet get cold, we'll get you some socks. Okay?"

"I guess so," Biscuit said.

Again I say, ugh!

After he was dressed and ready for bed, he asked if he could watch cartoons in my bedroom.

"Absolutely," I said, secretly glad to be away from him for a bit.

After about 15 minutes, Biscuit walked into the living room and stood by my rocking chair. I didn't acknowledge him at first because I was checking my email. He reached his hand out and laid it on my arm. And when I looked at his face, he had tears in his eyes.

I put down my laptop and scooped him up. He laid his head on my shoulder, and next thing I knew, he was fast asleep.

He's cute when he sleeps!