A few things Biscuit has said recently:
Little boy, big words: When my brother and I were kids, we used to come up with all kinds of story lines for whatever it was that we were playing.
We'd be motorcycle police officers and would write scribbled parking tickets and leave them under the windshield wipers on our parents' cars. They never said a word about having to get rid of all our little paper scraps.
We'd play restaurant, and our parents would pretend to eat rock hamburgers and stick french fries.
You see where I'm going with this? Our parents always played with us.
So Jeff and I try to do the same for Biscuit. We want him to know that we support his imagination and that we enjoy spending time with him.
But sometimes his storylines get so long and convoluted, we have a hard time keeping up.
He always starts out with, "Just pretend like ..." then follows that with a long string of conversation.
I was sitting in the kitchen last week making a grocery list, when Biscuit came in with a girl superhero and a boy superhero. And here was the conversation:
"Mom, just pretend that she said, 'Hey. Why aren't you guys trying to fight me?' And one of them said to her confidently, 'Because we're good guys, too, and good guys don't fight each other.' "
I don't even know if he knows what "confidently" means. And even if he does, I'm not sure where he heard it.
But I can say confidently that Biscuit's imagination is a great place.
Making a deal: We were out to dinner last night, and Biscuit had brought a little car with him. He dropped the car under the table twice. I have a cool flashlight app on my phone, so each time, I shined it under the table so he could find the car.
Finally, right before we left, Biscuit dropped the car again. He looked up at me, and I think he could tell by the look on my face that I was not pleased.
"Get the car and give it to me," I said to Biscuit.
"But Mom, I won't drop it again," Biscuit said.
"Even so, when you get the car, you have to give it to me," I told Biscuit.
"But Mom," Biscuit said, starting to bargain. "I promise. I promise. I promise I won't drop it again. I cross my eyes I won't drop it again."
Trying not to laugh, I just held out my hand for the car. Biscuit put it on the table and sat there looking really disappointed.
I never did see him cross his eyes, though.