Mustang Biscuit

 A post from The Daddy Man:

I'm Biscuit's favorite. He told me so. Then he told his mother so.

That boy has no idea the implications of his choice in favorites.

I'm convinced that it's more about my car than anything else. I drive a Mustang that is smaller than Kimmy's Magnum. When Biscuit is in his car seat in my car, he sits higher, and he has a better field of vision.

He loves to look around, and he loves to people-watch about as much as Kimmy does. So when he's sitting in my car, he can see what's going on.

The other reason is completely my fault. I let him mess with all the knobs and levers in my car. He climbs into the driver's seat every chance he gets and pretends he's driving ... usually it's a firetruck or a racecar.

My car only has two doors. That means that we have to move the passenger seat forward for Biscuit to get in. That's another lever to pull and another thing to move.

And with my car being smaller, it feels to Biscuit like we're going faster than we actually are. I think my son is already a speed demon.

So it's true. Biscuit loves me for my car. And I'm okay with that.

But when he falls down or gets upset or feels sick, I'm no longer his favorite. His Mama is the one he'll always run to first.