Sweet tooth: My favorite conversations with Biscuit are the ones that just come out of thin air. We won't be talking about anything specific. Or maybe we won't be talking about anything at all. Then he'll come up with something like this.
"Mom, how did it taste when you lost your sweet tooth?" Biscuit asked.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"When your sweet tooth came out, did food not taste right anymore?"
Sadly, I had to explain what "sweet tooth" really means. I always hate to burst those little bubbles!
Pretty white dresses: Sometimes I get sucked into those wedding dress shows on TV. The ones where the bride goes to the dress store to try on a bunch of gowns before she finds the perfect one to get married in.
The bride usually also brings her mother, mother-in-law, sisters, bridesmaids and others to critique her in several dresses before they're all brought to tears by that last show-stopping choice. Sometimes the drama is a bit much, and I wonder why in the world certain girls were even chosen as bridesmaids. Things get kind of mean sometimes. Even so, I love seeing the dresses.
A side note: It's funny to me that I love the dresses so much because my Mama picked out my wedding dress. She didn't get to wear a fancy dress for her wedding, and I didn't really care what I wore, so I told her to pick out something for me that she liked. I think she did a good job, too.
Anyway, Biscuit came walking into the living room one day when I was watching one of the wedding dress shows. He stopped and watched for a few minutes.
"Mom, I think all the wedding dresses look the same," Biscuit said.
"You do?" I asked.
"Yeah, they're all white and curly and stuff," Biscuit said.
"You know, you're right," I said.
Then he casually walked away, and I went back to my show.
Foul language: Biscuit and Jeff practiced baseball in the backyard during Biscuit's baseball season. Biscuit actually played better in the backyard than he did at his games. I wonder if got nervous, realizing a lot of people were watching.
After one game, his coach was bragging on a couple of hits he made. So Biscuit started telling the coach how he and Jeff practice in the yard.
"Dad pitches to me, and I just SWING as hard as I can," Biscuit said, swinging his arms around with an imaginary bat.
"That's cool," the coach said. "I bet you and your Dad have a lot of fun playing together."
"Yes, we do," Biscuit said. "And one time, I hit that ball so dam ... dang far that it went up on the roof of our house."
I turned my head toward Jeff so Biscuit couldn't see me.
"Did he just swear?" I asked Jeff.
"I don't think so," Jeff said. "He didn't seem to have that panicked look of getting caught doing something wrong. I think he just misspoke."
I looked over, and Biscuit's coach was smiling. "I wish we could've gotten that on video," he said. "That would've been fun to watch when he was older."