My sweet boy

When I brag on Biscuit, I usually get one of two reactions -- people either say that he's a perfect child or either they tell me something like, "Just wait until he turns 4 (or 7 or 14)." 

I can assure you that he's not perfect. He gets mad and pouts and has been known to throw things (guess how well that goes over with Jeff and me). And as for him changing when he turns different ages, well ... we're just along for he ride, and we'll take it as it comes.

But in the meantime, I'm going to brag some more.

Biscuit and I had to go to three different stores the other night. It was getting close to dinnertime, and I was dreading the possibility of a certain someone getting very, very grumpy, very, very quickly.

At the third store, Biscuit asked, "Mom, does this store have toys?"

"Yes, it does," I said to him.

"Can we go look at them?" he asked.

"Sure," I said to him, and we walked over to the toy aisle.

Biscuit walked first and started telling me all about the toys he saw. "That's a dinosaur, Mom. He will roar at you. ... That's a truck. It hauls things. ... That's a baseball. That's what you use when you're a baseball teamer."

Then we got to a display of little cars. Right in the middle of the display, right in Biscuit's eyeline, there was a S.W.A.T. van and a firetruck.

Biscuit's eyes lit up. He looked at me and said, "Mom, look. Looooook, Mom. That's so cool. That firetruck and that police van, they're so cool, Mom."

He looked them over backward and forward and asked me a bunch of questions about them.

"Are you ready to go?" I asked him. Then he did something that put a huge smile on my face.

He hung the truck and the van back on the rack, turned to look at me, and said, "Okay, Mom. I'm ready to go now."

He didn't whine. And he didn't ask if he could have them. I usually remember to tell him that we're in the store just to look and that we aren't buying anything. But that day, I didn't have to say it.

We started to walk away from the toys, then I stopped.

"Biscuit, would you like to have that firetruck and police van?" I asked him.

"REALLY?!?" Biscuit asked with huge eyes. "I can have them?"

Man, I just about cried. How sweet my boy was being.

I assured him that we could buy them and take them home, and he was beyond excited.

Later that night, when I went in to put Biscuit in his pajamas, he was holding the van in one hand and the truck in the other hand. I asked him to put them down so I could get his clothes off, and he said, "Mom, thank you for buying me the police van and the firetruck. That's so proud for you to do that," he said.

Good Lord! I wanted to bottle up those moments and save them. Then later, when Biscuit finds a way to jump up and down on my last nerve, I can go back to that bottle and see him when he was being the sweetest little boy in the world.