Out of the mouth of my babe

A few things Biscuit has been saying lately:

Thanks, Mom: Biscuit and I had dinner with a friend of mine tonight. We were supposed to meet her at 6:30, but we had some time to spare. So we went to the dollar store, and I told Biscuit he could pick out two things. He grabbed a race car and a dragon ... both red, of course.

Biscuit's birthday is in November, and I'm not sure how he knows it, but he's already told me what kind of party he wants. So I've been on the lookout for party supplies. I found a couple of things at the dollar store and took them to the checkout counter.

"Right now, I'm 3 1/2. But when it's my birthday, I'll be 4," Biscuit said. "This stuff is for my party."

"Wow," said the cashier. "That's really cool."

"Yeah," Biscuit said. "My mom is buying this stuff for me. I can have the car and dragon right now, but the other stuff is for later when I have my 4-year-old party."

Biscuit paused for a minute, looked at me and said, "Thanks, Mom, for letting me turn 4. That's nice of you to let me turn 4."

The ladies behind the counter found that quite funny, and I have to say, I did, too.


Almost right: Most of the kids at Biscuit's day care get picked up between 5 and 5:30 p.m. And as the classes get smaller and smaller, the teachers move the leftover kids to the afterschool room  and let them watch part of a movie.

The other day, Biscuit came home telling Jeff and me about this movie where the onions were so funny, and they talked funny. The big man always told the onions what to do. And they did it.

Jeff and I wracked our brains trying to figure out what movie would have onions that were able to talk and laugh and do things.

"Do you think he means 'minions'?" Jeff asked.

"MINIONS!" I said. "Of course."

"No, guy," Biscuit said. "Not MINIONS. They're ONIONS!"


Just checking: When I bathe Biscuit, I use the head-to-toe body wash. But Jeff uses a little kid bar of soap and shampoo.

As Jeff was giving Biscuit a bath the other night, he squirted some shampoo into his hand.

"Dad, what is that stuff?" Biscuit asked.

"This is shampoo," Jeff said.

"But not the kind of poo you put in the toilet," Biscuit said.

"Nope," Jeff said. "This is SHAM-poo, not toilet poo."

The whole conversation was funny enough, but then I realized that Jeff never cracked a smile,and he never stopped sudsing up Biscuit's hair. We're so used to these types of comments and questions that they don't even faze us.

Of course, that doesn't mean that I'm going to stop writing them down!