A few things Biscuit has said recently:
Cowboy grub: When Biscuit is playing cowboy, I'm often the camp cook. He calls me Cookie.
Last week, Biscuit had rounded up a bunch of cows in the living room. Then he left the room and came back with a sword.
"Mom, do you want me to use this sword to cut some bull?" Biscuit asked.
"What?!" I asked.
"You know, for dinner, we can have some meat."
"Um, sure," I said. But I didn't go any further.
And hey, at least he knows where it comes from ... sort of.
Feeling regret: Biscuit has a listening problem. His ears work just fine, he just doesn't use them consistently.
On one recent night, I asked him to do something. He acknowledged me, said he would do what I told him, then kept playing.
Knowing Biscuit like I know Biscuit, I got up out of my chair and started doing what I had asked him to do. He came running over and said, "I'll do it! I'll do it!"
"No," I said. "I asked you to do it, but you didn't. Now, I'm doing it."
I wish you could've seen his face. He knew he had disappointed me. And Biscuit does not like to disappoint me.
About half an hour later, Biscuit came slinking over to my chair. He wouldn't even look at my face.
"Mom, I'm feeling really sorry about myself," Biscuit said.
"Why?" I asked him, knowing exactly why he was feeling bad.
"For not listening and doing what you said," Biscuit said. "I just feel so sorry about myself for that."
I don't enjoy making Biscuit feel "sorry about himself," but sometimes, he has to figure out by himself where he went wrong and how he needs to fix it.
Lookin' good: The pajama shirt Biscuit is wearing tonight says "Heartbreaker" on the front of it. Jeff asked him if he knew what "heartbreaker" means.
"It means I look good, right?" Biscuit asked.
"Yep," Jeff said. "That's right. ... Are you a heartbeaker?"
"Nope," Biscuit said. "I haven't combed my hair yet."
Eating well: I feel like I've typed this a lot lately, but I had to work late tonight, so Biscuit and Jeff were on their own for dinner.
We go out to eat after Biscuit's piano lessons on Monday, and we had leftovers at home for tonight's dinner.
When Jeff picked up Biscuit, he said, "Boy, Mama is working late, so you get a choice for dinner. A sandwich or some leftover honey chicken."
"Ooo," Biscuit said. "Honey chicken."
"What do you want to go with it?" Jeff asked.
"Just the chicken," Biscuit said.
"You need to have something with it," Jeff said. "Like the broccoli that comes with it. Broccoli has nutrients and vitamins, and it's good for you."
Jeff said it was really quiet in the back seat for a few minutes.
Then Biscuit said, "Good to know."
In other words, he was not going to eat the broccoli. But at least he was diplomatic about it.