Out of the mouth of my babe

Here are a few things Biscuit has been saying recently:

Pickup trucks: Biscuit and I were on the way to day care, and there was a pickup truck in front of us, pulling a trailer with a small tractor on it.

"Hey, check out that truck," I said to Biscuit.

"What kind of truck is that, Mom?" Biscuit asked.

"It's a pickup truck," I answered.

"A PICKLE truck?!?" Biscuit asked with his voicing going way up.

"Not a PICKLE truck. A PICKUP truck," I said laughing.

"Do pickup trucks haul pickles, Mom?" Biscuit asked.

"I guess they can," I said. "I guess they can haul whatever fits in the back."

"Like pickles," Biscuit said.

"Yep. Like pickles," I said.

Birds: We ate dinner on the deck the other night, and it was nice hearing the birds chirping.

As Biscuit was looking around the yard he spotted some birds on the ground. His eyes got real big, and he took in a deep breath. He knew what kind of birds they were.

"MOM! MOM! LOOK OVER THERE! THOSE ARE ROBERTS, MOM! THOSE ARE ROBERTS!"

He was so excited to know their names, I didn't have the heart to tell him they're actually called robins.

Songs: Biscuit has an activity table that his grandparents gave him. He has played with that thing more than any other one toy he's ever gotten. I think the reason it's been such a hit for so long is that certain parts of it get more enjoyable the older he gets.

The table has lots of levers and buttons and switches, and when he was really little, he'd pull up on the table and just grab at things until the table made noises.

Then he started learning to make the noises happen on purpose. Then he started saying the colors and numbers and letters. Now, he's figuring out that he knows some of the songs that certain buttons play. Well, he sorta knows them. The table plays just the melody, no words. Here are three of the songs it plays:

• "I Was Working on the Railroad"
• "Froggy on the Courtin' or sometimes "Froggy on the Corner"
• "Darwin Clementine"

E for effort: Jeff and Biscuit play baseball a lot. Jeff is always the pitcher, and Biscuit loves to hit. Biscuit is pretty good at it, too. (And before Jeff gets his feeling hurt, "You're a good baseball teamer, too, Jeffy.") 

Anyway, I probably shouldn't, but I let my boys play baseball in the house. Biscuit's bat is covered in padded vinyl, and the ball is squishy, too. Luckily, they haven't broken anything yet. Although, I did get hit in the neck the other night with a ball. Biscuit put some power behind it, too, because it stung a little!

Tonight in the living room, Jeff threw the ball to Batter Biscuit. He took a big swing and caught the ball on the very edge of the bat. The ball popped up in the air, flew to the side and fell to the ground.

"Awwwwww!" Biscuit said.

"That's okay, boy," Jeff said. "You'll hit it better next time."

"Yeah," Biscuit said. "I got a piece of it, Dad. I got a piece of it. I'll hit it next time."

Our house: Biscuit and I were waiting in line at the drug store drive-through the other day to pick up his antibiotic. 

Technology can be a wonderful thing because right after the doctor left the exam room, she emailed a prescription to the drug store we use. Then when we got to the store, instead of having to haul Biscuit in and wait for the prescription to be filled, we just went through the drive-through, picked up the already-filled prescription and headed home. I'm sorry our Mamas didn't have such a convenient option.

Anyway, there was a car in front of us, so Biscuit and I were chatting while we waited.

"Mom, this building is made of bricks," Biscuit said. "And our house is made of bricks. And that means the big bad wolf can't blow any of us down."

"That's right, baby," I said. "We'll be safe and sound."

He can rhyme every time: Biscuit is fascinated with rhyming sounds, and he calls out rhyming words any time he hears them.

"Dude!" I said to Biscuit. "You're in a good mood!"

"Mom, dude and mood sound the same," Biscuit said. "They rhyme."

Biscuit and I were on the way to day care this morning, and he said, "Mom, cheese and please and trees all sound the same. They all rhyme."

"That's right," I said. "Do you know any other rhyming words?"

"Yep," he said. "Truck and duck sound the same. They rhyme." Then he just started making up words.

"And ruck. ... And wuck. ... And suck. ..." 

When I heard that last one, I said a silent prayer, "Please, Lord, don't let him keep going. I have no idea what I'm going to do if he keeps running through the alphabet."

God must've been listening, because just then, a firetruck came down the street past us.

"Mom, look!" Biscuit said. "It's a firetruck. Where's the firetruck going, Mom?"

"It must be going out on a call," I said, while silently giving thanks for that big, red truck.