Mad again

So I was mad Monday about being sent to the couch at piano lessons. And today, I'm griping about baseball.

Each team in Biscuit's baseball league has five games, either on Friday evening or Saturday morning.

His first game was rained out, and although we were disappointed, we were told there would be a makeup game.

And then I got the email.

Biscuit's make-up game is Wednesday. You might notice that Wednesday is not Friday or Saturday. Also, we're going on vacation next week and were already going to miss the scheduled game for Friday.

And to add fuel to my fire, they're taking team and individual photos before the Wednesday games.

So now, Biscuit will miss two games and team and individual photos. And I am not happy about it!

I certainly don't think the leaders planned it this way to tick me off, but they certainly succeeded, whether they meant to or not.

Biscuit has a game this Friday. Why couldn't they take pictures then? And if they assured me that all games would be on Friday evening or Saturday morning, why would they plan a make-up game on Wednesday?

Being the control freak I am, I don't deal well with things changing in an irrational way. And this whole thing seems irrational to me.

So we'll go to Biscuit's game Friday, then Sunday, we're leaving on vacation. And I bet we're going to have WAY more fun that we would at some stupid ballgames!

Out of the mouth of my babe

A few things Biscuit has said recently:

Laundry man: I told Biscuit to take his navy blue shirt to the hamper the other evening, not realizing that Jeff was in the process of doing laundry. Biscuit ran into our closet, then he ran right back out, still holding the shirt.

"Why are you still holding your shirt?" I asked. "I told you to put it in the hamper."

Biscuit let out a huge sigh and said, "I know, Mom, but there were only light colors in there, so I didn't think I should leave it there."

I am raising a good future husband for someone one day!


Geography lessons: Biscuit is fascinated with the fact that we live in a neighborhood, which is in a city, which is in a county, in a state, in a country, on a continent, in the world.

And because Scotland is the country he's most familiar with, he relates all foreign countries to the Highlands.

Biscuit and I were talking about countries, then somehow go onto the subject of ninjas. 

"Well, ninjas used to be like special soldiers who lived in Japan," I told Biscuit. "I don't know if there are still ninjas in Japan or not."

"Mom, I think there are still ninjas," Biscuit said. "And in case you didn't know, Japan is like Scotland, but all the way, way past Scotland."

"That's good to know," I said.


Making conversation: We were running errands Sunday evening, and I was trying to get both my dawdling boys to hurry up. (I spend a good bit of my life trying to get Jeff and Biscuit to hurry up!)

We were inside the store looking at some T-shirts for Biscuit when they made the closing announcements. "We will be closing in 15 minutes. Please make your final selections and make your way to the registers."

I gave Jeff an "I TOLD you" look.

"I had no idea they closed this early," Jeff said.

"It's Sunday!" I said. "They ALWAYS close an hour earlier on Sundays."

I really needed to get my shopping done, so I gave Jeff two or three things to get and I flew around the rest of the store getting what I needed - shampoo, cereal, bread, etc.

We got in a checkout line, and as usual, my line was moving slower than all the others.

"Excuse me," Biscuit said to the cashier. She didn't hear him.

"EXCUSE ME!" Biscuit nearly shouted at her.

She looked up at him, and he said, "My name is Griffin. What's your name?"

"My name is Kathy," she said.

"It's nice to meet you Kathy," Biscuit said.

"It's nice to meet you, too, Griffin," she said.

They had the usual Biscuit/total stranger conversation about how he got his name, how old he is, whether or not he's in school yet, and then the conversation took a turn. And it was just as we were finishing our transaction.

"Um, excuse me, Kathy, did you notice that I'm wearing new sandals?" Biscuit said. He has a new pair of those shoes that look like a cross between tennis shoes and sandals.

"Since I'm wearing sandals, that's why I'm not wearing socks," Biscuit said.

"That's a good fashion statement," she said.

"And my Mom, she's wearing sandals, too," Biscuit said. "Mom, can you lift your foot up and show your sandals to Kathy?"

I certainly didn't want to show the lady my sandals or my feet, but I made an effort.

"And my Dad, he's wearing sandals, too. See?" Biscuit said, pointing down to Jeff's feet.

We were done with our transaction before Biscuit ever told her to look at my shoes, but he was still talking. They had even turned off part of the lights in the store.

Then Kathy asked Biscuit a question that I didn't hear.

Biscuit just sat there looking at her.

"Did you hear me?" she asked.

"Um, sometimes, when I don't know the answer, I just don't respond," Biscuit said.

"Well that's okay," she said, and we quickly ushered Biscuit toward the door.

Sent to the couch

I was banished to the couch. By Jeff and Biscuit's piano teacher.

Those mean men told me that I need to sit around the corner from the music room at the piano teacher's house. And I don't like it!

For the past two weeks, when we've gone to piano lessons, Biscuit would play something, then look at me for my reaction. Then it would take him a minute to get his attention back on the task at hand.

So Jeff said to the teacher last week, "Maybe we should try sitting on the couch around the corner."

Do what?!

Jeff gave me some speech about how it would help Biscuit concentrate better and how he would depend more on his teacher than me.

Whatever!

So we got to Biscuit's lesson tonight, and I walked with him into the music room and helped him get his books unpacked. Then I turned around and walked around the corner to the formal living room.

I listened to the first few minutes of the lesson, but it was hard to be there, but not really be there. So I played on my phone for a while, then played with the piano teacher's cat.

Biscuit had a good lesson. And I have mixed emotions about it. I'm proud of him for paying attention and doing well, but I really did miss getting to sit and watch him.

If it helps him for me to sit on the couch, I'll definitely do it. I love my boy, even if I don't like sitting on the couch.

Kindergarten bound

Biscuit is officially registered for kindergarten. And it took more paperwork than buying a car!

The first step was finding out which school he would go to.

Jeff and I have been looking around town at the different education opportunities, and believe me, in a city this size, there are many!

When I started school, your parents would call the school district office and give them your address. Then the school district people would tell you which school you go to.

Here, we have our choice of public, private, religious, Montessori, magnet or home schooling.

We checked into all the options and decided that at least for the time being, the public school will be just fine. (Despite the fact that Jeff and I didn't know if we'd even have kids when we bought our house, we sure did move into a good school district!)

I was working from home today because I'm working on a special project at work. So I thought that during my regular commute time, I would run over to Biscuit's kindergarten school and get the paperwork taken care of.

I had to fill out:

• Health assessment form (half filled out by me, half by Biscuit's doctor ... they charge $10 per form to fill them out)
• School application
• Two emergency contact forms, including the names and phone numbers of anyone who is allowed to pick him up from school
• A form saying whether or not he would ride the bus
• A form saying that English is his first and only language (unless you count numbers, colors, body parts and a few other words in Spanish)
• Two forms with basic information about Jeff, Biscuit and me ... address, phone, email, etc.
• A form asking if Biscuit would need any special assistance for anything - physical, like a wheelchair or academical considerations, like dyslexia or ADHD.
• And a form saying the school had provided me with some other forms

I had to provide:

• A certified copy of Biscuit's birth certificate
• A utility bill to prove residency
• Biscuit's immunization record

Yes, there were way too many papers to fill out, but the worst part was having to hand write them. I spent so much time on computers, and I can type like the wind. But you put a pen in my hand, and after my signature and a few other words, my hand is tired. Plus, I don't remember my handwriting being as bad as it is until I saw it on the forms!

Every form required:

• My name, address, home phone number, cell phone number, workplace, work phone number and email
• Jeff's name, address, home phone number, cell phone number, workplace, work phone number and email
• Biscuit's full name, address, home phone number and birthdate

Then I saw the "2014-15 Kindergarten Supply List." Oh boy!

• 12 glue sticks
• Two or more thin-tipped Dry Erase markers
• One box of crayons, no more than a 24-pack
• Two plastic folders with pockets and prongs (red, blue)
• One standard size pencil box
• Fiskar scissors
• Six No. 2 pencils
• Three stitched composition books
• Two highlighters (one yellow, one orange)
• One standard size pink eraser
• One set of headphones or earbuds.

I don't know what's more frustrating, the fact that the list is so specific or the fact that there were several grammatical mistakes on the list. (I'm an editor by trade. I can't help but notice.)

It feels like I've jumped over a big hurdle. All I have to do now is sign him up for his screenings. I'm not sure what that involves, but I guess we'll find out before August.

I told Biscuit that everything is taken care of, and he is very excited. Looking at those photos I posted yesterday, I can't believe that Biscuit is old enough to start school.

It'll be a new adventure!

Little Biscuit

I've seen people taking part in Throwback Thursday on different kinds of social media, and I figured I would do the same thing here.

Plus, I had dinner with a girlfriend this evening and haven't been home very long!

Here are some pictures of a littler Biscuit.

Guess who's in charge of the remote?

Mr. Big Man with his new jeans.

Ugh! I just can't take it anymore!

Oh no! Poor, sad Biscuit!

New teeth means gnawing on the hand.

Can you hear the noise? Phhhtttttttttttt!!!!!

The only cabinet in the kitchen that didn't have
a child lock became Biscuit's favorite hangout.

School work

Biscuit brings home so many papers from daycare. He has drawings and worksheets. Sight word lists and practice guides. And it's hard to think about throwing it all away.

So I've come up with some criteria for keeping some and getting rid of some.

If the paper is more than 50% Biscuit's own work, I keep it. If it's not, I don't. There are occasional exceptions, but for the most part, I've stuck with this rule.

Here are a few papers Biscuit brought home this week:

This one features a good sample of
Biscuit's handwriting, so I'll keep it.

As for this one, I'll keep it for a little while, just because
when I ask Biscuit to tell me about it, he says "calerpittar."

An arthur came to visit Biscuit's school. No, not an author,
and arthur. She wrote a book about dreams. She talked to the kids about her book, then asked them to draw their idea of a happy dream. Biscuit drew Iron Man flying under a blue cloud.

The arthur gave the kids "happy dream rings." She said for the
kids to put them close to their beds, so they'll have good dreams.

Out of the mouth of my babe

A few things Biscuit has said recently ... about bathroom-related things:


Too much information? No way! We were at one of our usual restaurants recently, and about halfway through the meal, Biscuit made an announcement.

"I have to go poo," he said.

"I'll take him," Jeff said.

They start walking up the aisle toward the bathroom, and Biscuit saw our server coming toward him. Biscuit has actually asked to go to this restaurant just to see this server. He's a really sweet teenager who talks to Biscuit about baseball and superheroes. 

So as Jeff and Biscuit were walking, and the server was coming toward them, Biscuit decided to let him know what was going on.

"Um, excuse me, Luke," Biscuit said. "Don't throw away my food. I'm going to poo, but I'll be right back."

Luke, being the sweet kid he is, said, "Okay, dude. Don't worry about it."

And Biscuit and Jeff just went about their business.


Thank goodness for toilets: Biscuit and I were talking about the days when they didn't have indoor bathrooms. I explained outhouses and about how you could just take care of your business behind a big shrub.

Biscuit's response was pretty funny. He held his hands out in exasperation and got a serious look on his face.

"Mom, if we didn't have bathrooms, for goodness sakes, we'd have to pee on the grass and water the flowers," he said.

"Yep," I said. "That's exactly what would happen."

Happy Easter

Happy Easter, everybody!

Biscuit got a fun-filled Easter basket from the Bunny this morning. He was very excited that his collection of superhero action figures was completed. And "how did the Easter bunny know that's the one I was missing?"

But even better than that, I asked Biscuit why Easter is important, and he said, "Because Jesus got a new life."

I'm glad we're able to celebrate the fun and the meaningful.

Musical boys

Biscuit and I blew off piano practice this evening. Instead, we cuddled up on the couch together and watched videos on my cellphone.

I was trying to think of something fun for us to do while we waited for Jeff to get home, and I thought Biscuit might like to see some "boy" piano players.

Regardless of age, people are either boys or girls for Biscuit.

I didn't want to show him classical players, thinking it might be overwhelming. So I showed him some men who play popular music.

Here are a few male piano players we watched:
Harry Connick Jr.
Billy Joel
Jerry Lee Lewis (who made Biscuit laugh out loud)
Dr. John
Fats Domino
Mickey Gilley

I told Biscuit that I was going to buy him a big ol' headdress like Dr. John wears. 

Thinking I was serious, Biscuit said, "Um, Mom, um, I don't think I would like that very much."

Biscuit and I had a really good time, and for the first time in I can't remember how long, Biscuit fell asleep in my arms.

It was a good night.

Sour notes

It's no fun at all when you see your child exhibit what you feel is one of your own bad character traits.

I got the dinner dishes cleaned up, and because Thursday is my TV night, I asked Jeff if Biscuit and I could practice piano before bathtime.

Biscuit and I got to the piano and started to practice.

I have to interrupt myself and say that Biscuit's lesson Monday night went SO well. It went especially well for the little amount that we practiced last week. It just seemed like we had something going on every night, and we would remember at bedtime that we didn't practice. Or some nights, we wouldn't remember at all.

It's been hard figuring out the timing because as soon as we walk in the door, I'm starting dinner. Then I'm cleaning up the kitchen as Jeff gives Biscuit a bath. Some nights, I have to finish up with work stuff. And there's all the usual household stuff to do, and before you know it, it's time for Biscuit to go to bed.

Anyway, Biscuit was completely tuned in to his teacher Monday night, and he was doing so well, the teacher actually kept him past his 30-minute lesson time. Biscuit seemed to be just soaking it all in, and he literally skipped down the driveway as we were leaving. It was a wonderful thing to see.

Then Tuesday night, Biscuit had a good practice here at home. He was remembering everything. His fingers just seemed to be exactly where they needed to be.

And then there was tonight.

When I told Biscuit it was time to practice, he said, "Mom, my hands are tired."

"Come on," I said. "We need to practice."

"But Mom," Biscuit whined. "My hands really are tired."

A fleeting thought crossed my mind. I thought, "It's not a big deal if we skip tonight." But I chose instead to push it.

So Biscuit and I were sitting at the piano, and he was all over the place. He was naming notes wrong. He was just guessing out of the blue about things he already knows. He just wasn't doing well at all.

"Okay," I said. "You're done. Go play."

And Biscuit burst into tears.

"What's wrong?" I asked him.

"I'm just so sad, Mom," Biscuit wailed.

He was defeated. He felt like he failed, so he just collapsed.

It seems like a simple thing. He had a bad practice. It was 15 minutes of his whole day. But that 15 minutes managed to just wreck him. He was so, so pitiful. He just cried and cried, and I know exactly how he felt. I've been there before. 

And the worst part was that he wasn't sad that he lost a board game. Or upset because he didn't get the toy he wanted. He was crushed because he couldn't do what he thought he needed to do. He does not deal well with failure. And he got that from me.

I am my own worst enemy. Jeff says that I am nicer to strangers than I am to myself. And I don't want Biscuit to be that way. I've seen it in him several times already, and I just hope and pray that somewhere along the way, Biscuit learns to handle those feelings better than I do. Because they eat at you and make you question yourself, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone.

The good news is that within 10 minutes, I had hugged, consoled, tickled and pestered a smile onto Biscuit's face.

I assured him that this was one bad practice and that we'd try again tomorrow.

And as another Southern belle once said, "Tomorrow is another day."

The life cycle of a butterfly

Biscuit's class at day care recently learned the life cycle of a butterfly.

They had to draw lines to make four squares on a piece of paper, and in each square, they drew a different part of the process.

First there's the egg, then the caterpillar, then the cocoon (or chrysalis), then the butterfly.

Those facts are interesting on their own, but throw in the fact that Biscuit can't pronounce one of the words, and it becomes so cute I can't stand it.

Check out this video:



I guess I should correct his pronunciation, but I just can't. I love to hear him say it, and I have tricked him into saying it a thousand times already. I'm surprised he hasn't figured it out.

"What are the worms that turn into butterflies?" I'll ask Biscuit.

"Calerpittars," he'll say.

Nope. Can't fix that one!

Can you just smile, please?

I love taking pictures of Biscuit, but I swear, if he doesn't get out of this silly face phase soon, I might have to superglue a smile on his face!

I know it's hard when I just say, "Smile!" out of the blue, but even when I make him giggle and try to snap a few quick pictures, I almost always wind up with more outtakes than nice smiles.

Here are a few of him in his new baseball shirt and hat:

Almost a smile.

La-la-la-la-la-laaaaaa!

"Can you see me, Mom?"

"Eeeeewwwwwww!"

Bad day at day care = bad night at home

Biscuit got in trouble at day care today. And because of that, he was in trouble at home, too.

When I was growing up, any time I was in trouble at school, my Mama knew about it before I even got home. And I got some kind of punishment at school AND at home.

My Mama was a receptionist at a high school for years, and I was witness a couple of times to parents coming in yelling and swearing about how "my little Johnny would NEVER do something like that." Now, I'm not saying that you always take the teacher's word, no matter what. But really, you should know your kid better than anyone else. Can you really honestly stand there and say that "your little Johnny" is not at all capable of whatever it was that he was accused of?

Biscuit was accused of two things today. One of them, I could totally see him doing. The other one, not so much.

One of the teachers said that Biscuit was throwing books and spitting. Throwing books? Yes. Spitting? I'm not buying that one.

When I got to day care to pick up Biscuit, he was sitting in the office, and as soon as he saw me, his eyes hit the floor! GUILTY!!!

I called him over to sit in my lap, and he was scared. I could see it in his face.

As soon as he crawled up in my lap, he immediately laid his head on my shoulder and wouldn't say anything.

"Can you tell me what happened in class?" I asked him.

"I don't want to," Biscuit said.

I BET you don't want to, Little Man!

He finally mumbled that he threw some books.

"Who was the teacher in the class?" I asked him.

He told me, and I asked him if he apologized to her.

"No, ma'am," he said.

"Well you will tomorrow," I said. And his eyes hit the floor again. I was actually feeling sorry for him because he was feeling way more guilt than he probably needed to.

Biscuit had a piano lesson this evening, and it was pre-paid, so I told him to say goodbye to the teacher in the office, and away we went.

Once we got to the car, I asked him if he could tell me more about what happened.

"Mom, I did throw the books because I thought it was funny when they hit the chair," Biscuit said. "But I promise, I PROMISE, I did not spit. I would tell you, Mom, and I didn't do it. For real. I mean it, Mom. I didn't spit."

Unless Biscuit was making noises with his mouth, and the teacher mistook it for spitting, I believe him. But spitting or no spitting, I let him have it about the books.

"First of all, those books don't belong to you, so you're disrespecting someone else's things," I said. "Secondly, books are important, and you just don't treat them that way. Thirdly, you couldn't slipped and hit someone instead of the chair. And lastly, you absolutely know better than to behave that way in class."

I glanced in my rearview mirror, and he had started crying. It might make me sound terrible, but I was okay with him crying. Don't get me wrong, I never enjoy seeing my baby cry, but at least I know that he realizes that what he did was wrong. And even though throwing books isn't a cardinal sin, it's the disrespect of the books, his teachers and his classmates that bugs me.

So I told Biscuit to take a deep breath and wipe off his tears, then I gave him his pre-piano lesson snack.

And of course, I had to follow up the whole thing with the speech. "You know that sometimes I'm going to be mad at you, but that never ever ever changes the fact that I love you. You know that, right?"

"Yes, Mom," Biscuit said. "I know you love me."

"Do you remember that I told you that if you get in trouble at day care, you'll be in trouble at home?" I asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Biscuit said.

"I'm thinking that you won't get to watch any TV tonight," I said. "What do you think?"

"Okay, Mom," Biscuit said. "I'm okay with that."

It is so incredibly hard to know that the things I'm saying to that child are upsetting him and that he just wants me to hug him and tell him everything is okay. But I also know that if I don't take these opportunities to teach him my values, it'll be a disservice to him in his future.

But of course, after our conversation, I did hug him and tell him everything is okay, and he promised to have a better day tomorrow. And that's what I needed to hear.

An egg grab for Easter

We had a really fun Easter egg hunt at our house last year. Remember this?

And then a week later, I was crazy enough to try one of the city-sponsored Easter egg hunts. Remember this?

So I hadn't really put a lot of thought into any Easter events this year until a friend emailed me to see if I'd like to go back to that city-sponsored hunt. I said absolutely not to the egg hunt, but absolutely yes to hanging out with my friend and her son.

We found a church not far from our house that was having an Easter event from 3 to 5 p.m. today.

Biscuit and I went to the movies this morning, and I thought we'd have time for him to take a quick nap. No such luck. There were 20 minutes of previews before the feature film even started. And although the movie was fun, including good music, there was a part in the middle that kind of dragged.

"Mom, I'm getting kind of tired," Biscuit said.

I took a look at my phone to see what time it was, and sure enough, it was his usual naptime. What in the world is this kid going to do in August when he stops getting a nap? The kindergarten classes around here go all day with no nap. Biscuit might come straight home and go to bed!

Anyway, we left the theater at 1:46 p.m. and came home for lunch. Then next thing you know, it was time to go to the egg hunt.

The age groups were gathered in the church's parking lot, and we found our group - ages 3 to 5. When the time came for the hunt, the people holding the signs led the kids to a grassy area behind the church. When the church bells rang, the kids could run out and start looking for eggs. Except there was no looking involved. The eggs were just scattered out over the grass. 

Am I the only one that misses the egg hunts where the eggs were actually hidden?

I guess since most places have a lot of open lawns, it's hard to really "hide" the eggs. But because there were so many kids today, and the eggs were in plain sight, the egg gathering took less than 5 minutes.

Biscuit was excited when I told him one of his friends would be there. And then he saw a girl from his day care. It was a little awkward because her Dad brought her, and he isn't much of a conversationalist. So the little girl, Biscuit and his friend did all the activities together, and my friend and I talked while the little girl's Dad just kind of stood around.

The kids seemed to have a good time, but it was 80 degrees here today, and I think there was a correlation between the temperature and the length of the lines. The first line, when it was just starting to heat up, wasn't so bad. By the time we got to the end, the kids were getting restless and thirsty, I was sweating and the lines were way longer!

They had inflatables, a mini fire engine to ride around the parking lot, pony rides and a petting zoo with a llama, donkey and goats.

Here are some pictures:

Follow the leader to the egg hunt.

Not so much of an egg hunt as an egg grab.

Got the stash, ready to trade the eggs for a goody bag.

FIRE TRUCK!!! This little truck hauled the kids
(and some adults) around the parking lot.

The petting zoo featured a llama (or alpaca, I don't
know the difference), a donkey and some goats.

Nice face.

The line for this thing took forever because only one kid at a time can climb
and slide. But Biscuit's turn finally came. He climbed and climbed and climbed.

And then the slide!

I've never seen a baseball inflatable before today. The ball
was floating on air coming out of the top of the yellow
cone. Biscuit had to swing a few times before he hit it.

And then it was time for pony rides. If we thought the line for the big slide was
long, it was nothing compared to the pony ride line. We were hot and tired, and our
boys were hot and tired and thirsty. Good thing is was nearing 5 p.m. - closing time.

Ride 'em cowboy!

I wanted Biscuit to be excited about the ponies because he's been
playing cowboys for days. But I think by the time he actually got on
the horse, he was done for the day. He got home and slept for two hours.

Hanging out with our friends today was fun, but I think we're still on a search for the perfect Easter egg hunt!

Play ball!

Tonight was our meet-and-greet for Biscuit's baseball team.

Biscuit's team is made up of 5- and 6-year-old boys and girls. Some of them have played before, but for some, like Biscuit, this is their first time on the field.

I asked the director to point out our coach, then I walked over and introduced myself.

"My son will be playing on your team," I said. "What do you want him to call you?" 

I sent Biscuit over to his coach, and he introduced himself.

"My name is Griffin," Biscuit said. "This is my first baseball practice. I'm wearing a Yankees hat and T-shirt, but I'm playing for the White Sox team."

I dressed Biscuit in some comfy knit track pants and a T-shirt, but I showed up at practice in work clothes. Know why? I didn't know that I was going to be standing behind second base telling the kids when to run to third!

A friend of mine is coaching her 4-year-old son's team. I talked to her after their coaches orientation, and she said that parents would be helping. But I figured I'd just send Jeff out there. There were several other moms who did just that. But before I could get away, I got sent to second base.

This league is all about teaching the basics - which base to run to (we did have a kid that hit the ball then ran to third base), what to do if you get the ball in the field, don't sit down on the grass when you're playing first base ... you know, the basics.

Each kid gets to hit. Tonight, the coach pitched three balls, and if the batter didn't hit it, they brought out a tee. Biscuit hit the second ball the coach pitched and actually remembered to run to first base without being prompted.

When he got to second base (aka my outpost), I said, "I'm proud of you."

"I know, Mom," Biscuit said. "That's because I hit the ball, and now I'm a famous baseball player."

Um, yeah. That's why I'm proud. The boy's confidence level certainly isn't in question!

They'll have five games, three on Friday evenings and two on Saturday mornings. We'll miss one game because of vacation, but I'm not even going to tell Biscuit that right now. He's too excited about getting to play.

Here's Biscuit in his baseball dress ... I mean, baseball T-shirt.
He got #3, which Jeff loves because it was Babe Ruth's number. Biscuit
loves that his hat has a G on it, because of course that can stand for Griffin.

Bee-ware of Biscuit's honey knowledge

A post from The Daddy Man:

Biscuit and I have some good conversations between home and day care. A recent one was all about bumblebees and honey.

It went like this:

"You don't have to be afraid of bumblebees," Biscuit said. "They might fly close to you, but it's because they can't see very well. Even though they have lots of eyes. If you leave them alone, they'll leave you alone."

"That's good to know," I told him.

"Bumblebees are our friends because they make honey for honey chicken," Biscuit said.

I didn't have the heart to tell him that honey comes a different kind of bee.

"So bumblebees make chicken?" I asked him.

"NO, Dad!" Biscuit said, exasperated. "They just make the honey FOR the chicken. Have you ever had Honeynut Cheerios?"

"No," I said. "Would you like to try them sometime?"

"Maybe," Biscuit said. "Can we get some from the grocery store?"

"If you want to," I said.

I can't ever recall talking to Biscuit about bumblebees of honey before today, so I'm not sure where his information came from. But if I ever make it onto "Jeopardy," and there's a "honey" category, I know exactly who to call.

Trusting vs. guilible

How do you teach your kid the difference between giving people the benefit of the doubt and believing everything everyone tells you.

I haven't figured it out yet, or I would've explained it to Biscuit before he got in trouble at day care.

Biscuit and some of his friends were playing at day care when another little boy came up and started talking to them. The talking boy has a speech problem, so Biscuit and the others were having a hard time understanding what he was saying. The talking boy finally just walked away.

Biscuit said to his friends, "I can't understand what he says sometimes."

"That's because he's speaking Chinese," one of the other boys said.

There's a boy in Biscuit's class who was adopted from Africa. So I guess having a so-called Chinese boy in his class didn't really faze Biscuit.

Biscuit came home and told me the whole story, which led to a lengthy conversation about how the boy is actually NOT from China, even though his friend said it was true.

And of course, Biscuit argued with me. "But Mom," Biscuit said, "he IS from China."

I wanted to say, "Does he LOOK Chinese?" but as small as the world is these days, he could easily be from China without having Chinese ancestry. I wanted to say, "Can't you understand SOME of his words?" but I didn't think that conversation would head in a positive direction either.

So finally, I landed on the "not everyone talks the same, so you never make any comments about how someone talks" train of thought.

He seemed to get it, but just in case, I wanted to tell his teacher.

The very next morning, when I dropped off Biscuit, I pulled his teacher to the side and told her what happened. I explained to her that Biscuit absolutely believes the boy is from China, and that even though there would be no malice in him mentioning it, it still might hurt the boy's feelings.

She laughed and shook her head. Apparently, she's seen this kind of thing before.

But then that afternoon, when they were having circle time, the teacher was going over their sight words, and the boy mispronounced one of them.

"That's not how you say it," one of the other boys in the class said.

"It's okay," Biscuit said. "He's saying it in Chinese."

Ugh!

There was a note to see the teacher on Biscuit's paper that afternoon. She said she was glad I had told her because at least she knew that Biscuit didn't mean what he said in a bad way. And after the talks we've had, I think he finally gets it.

I think on this particular subject, Biscuit now has a better idea of what not to say, but what about the other 50,000 ways he could possibly insult someone? And what about all those people who will spew lies just to see if anyone will believe them?

I guess this will be a case-by-case process, and it makes me tired just thinking about it.

A look back

Mama took a few pictures of Biscuit at a bounce house while he was at her house a couple of weeks ago, and after I saw those photos, I started scrolling through some of the others.

And of course I have to share them!

Biscuit a 1 year old, having some cake.

Look how light his hair is.

Cowboy Biscuit.