Out of the mouth of my babe

Here are a few things Biscuit has been saying lately:

Nails: Biscuit was in the bathtub playing one night. He had boats and pirates and ducks and whatever other toys he could get his hands on all floating around him.

He suddenly stopped playing and started picking at his big toe. "What's wrong, Biscuit?" I asked him.

"It's my footnail, Mom," Biscuit said. "Can you fix my footnail?"

Biscuit had a little chip in his big toenail and wanted me to fix it. Sometimes it's logic over linguistics.

Not a toy: Griffin was getting over a cold last week, so he was a little clingy. I was holding him as he laid his head on my shoulder. And my thoughts were alternating between how nice it felt to hold him like I used to when he was little and holy moly how big this kid has gotten. 

When I used to hold him on my shoulder, his feet didn't even touch my lap. Nowadays, he can kneel on my lap and lay his head on my shoulder.

Anyway, I reached up and was running my fingers through his hair. That's always been a relaxing thing for him. As a matter of fact, he plays with his own hair when he's tired. He's done it every since he's had hair.

So I was playing with his hair while his head was on my shoulder, and he said to me, "Mom, what are you doing?"

"I'm playing with your hair," I said.

"Mom, my hair is not a toy," he said.

Alrighty then. And I stopped playing with his hair.

Toppings: Jeff and I do not agree on pizza toppings. He likes pepperoni and mushrooms, and I ... well, I don't like pepperoni and mushrooms. So we usually order a medium with Jeff's toppings and a medium with toppings Biscuit and I like.

Now, Biscuit has turned traitor.

We were eating our appointed pizzas when Biscuit looked over at Jeff's slice.

"Dad, can I try that red food on your pizza?" Biscuit asked.

"Sure, boy," Jeff said, then he gave Biscuit a bite.

"I like that red food, Dad," Biscuit said. "Can I have some more?"

Oh well. Now Jeff will have to share HIS pizza with Biscuit.

I'm Dad: Jeff was covering a game recently, so Biscuit and I were on our own for dinner.

When I got to the table, I sat down in Jeff's chair. "I'm Dad," I told Biscuit.

"Okay, Mom ... I mean Dad," Biscuit said. "I'm going to ask you a question. Dad?"

"Yes?" I asked.

"No, Mom," Biscuit said. "If you're Dad, you have to say, 'Yes, boy?' or 'Yes, dude?'"

Jeff calls him "boy" and "dude" all the time, but it surprised me that he was paying attention that closely. It makes you wonder what else he's hearing!