Out of the mouth of my babe

A few things Biscuit has said recently:



To tell the truth: The TV was on in the living room, but I wasn't really listening to it. But I guess Biscuit was.

"Mom, did you hear that?" Biscuit asked. "That man said that his stain remover was the best one. But that's not true. Everyone knows that Clorox is the best stain remover."

"It is?" I asked.

"Yes, Mom," he said. "Sometimes on commercials, they don't tell the truth. Sometimes they just lie, Mom."

"Yeah, I guess they do," I said.

His observation was funny to me because I remember when I was a kid, probably in fifth or sixth grade I had a school project to do where we had to come up with some kind of slogans. My teacher complimented me on my project and said I should consider being in advertising when I grew up. Most people always told me I should be a teacher, so it really affected me when someone suggested a different career.

I thought about it a lot, but I was really concerned because what would happen if I had to write an ad for a product I didn't like? Or what would happen if I realized that the product didn't work like the company said it would? They would expect me to write and ad for it anyway.

It's funny how black and white things are for kids. I bet those concerns wouldn't occur to many adults.

But just remember ... next time you have a tough stain, get some Clorox stain remover. Biscuit said so.


Ouch: We were at my parents' house the weekend after Biscuit's birthday. Biscuit and my niece celebrate together each year on that weekend.

My parents have a nice, solid-wood dining room set with carved legs on the table and the chairs. I love it, but the chairs are pretty heavy, which makes it hard to slide up to and away from the table.

Biscuit and my niece had their cake and opened their presents at the table, and Biscuit couldn't wait to get down and go play.

He jumped down and hollered, "Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!"

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Mom, it really hurts!" Biscuit said.

"Did you hit your knee when you jumped down?" I asked.

"No, it wasn't my knee," Biscuit said. "It was my thumb toe!"

"Your thumb toe?" I asked.

"Yes!" he said. "And IT HURT!"