A few things Biscuit has said recently:
Quite a description: I don't usually share much about bathroom stuff, but I can't help this one.
We went and bought school supplies for Biscuit this evening. By the time we got done, it was dinner time, so we went to an Italian restaurant we like.
About halfway through dinner, Biscuit announced (a little too loudly) that he needed to poo. Since Jeff had way more of his dinner left, I took one for the team.
I carry travel packs of bathroom wipes in my pocketbook (the TP in most public bathrooms will rip the hide off an adult, much less what it'll do to a kid's skin), and I was trying to get the pack out of the zipper compartment it was in. Biscuit started dancing, and I knew I better pick up the pace.
We got to the bathroom. I did the quick clean and paper-lining of the seat, and Biscuit took care of business.
During the process, he noticed that the music being piped in over the speakers was in Italian.
"Mom, I don't think they're speaking English," Biscuit said.
"No, they're singing in Italian," I said, "because this is an Italian restaurant."
"Have you ever been to Italian, Mom?" Biscuit asked.
"It's Italy," I said. "People who live in Italy speak Italian. And sadly, no, I haven't been there."
"Has Dad?" Biscuit asked.
"No," I said. "Dad has been to France and Spain but not Italy."
"So Dad speaks French and Spanish?" Biscuit asked.
"He speaks some Spanish but not French," I said.
"But you said he went to France," Biscuit reasoned. "So he would have to talk to people there in French, right?"
"Well, I guess he does know a little French," I said. "At least enough to say hello, thank you and goodbye."
Biscuit finished up, and we took care of the paperwork.
"Mom, you have GOT to see this," Biscuit said. "That one poo looks JUST like a snake!"
"Uh-huh," I said. I've heard this all before, and quite frankly, I had no desire to take a look.
"Mom, it's okay that it looks like a snake," Biscuit said. "I'm just REALLY glad that it wasn't like a king cobra. That would've hurt."
Sweet boy: Sometimes when my cabinets and/or kitchen get out of order, I get frustrated.
And sometimes, I even throw a fit and fling everything out of any given cabinet and start from scratch.
I had just such a fit the other evening, and Biscuit must have thought I was upset instead of mad.
I was throwing plastic containers everywhere and must have made a groaning sound.
"Having trouble, Kimmy?" Biscuit said.
Between the tone of voice he used and the fact that he sounded EXACTLY like a little version of Jeff when he said it, I just stopped and stared at him.
Finally, I started laughing. "Yes," I said. "I AM having trouble. But I'm fixin' to fix it."