Out of the mouth of my babe

A few things Biscuit has said recently:


Ouch! Biscuit doesn't understand the difference between spicy hot and temperature hot.

We were at a Mexican restaurant one night for dinner, and Biscuit wanted to dip his chip in the salsa. It was a little spicier than usual, so I said, "Just get a tiny, tiny bit of the sauce on your chip because it's kinda hot."

"We don't like hot things, do we Mom? But Dad, he likes hot stuff," Biscuit said.

"That's right," I said.

So one morning, while I was taking a shower, Biscuit went to the bathroom. Just as he started to flush, Jeff said, "Don't flush, boy. Mama is in the shower, and if you flush, it'll make the water in the shower very hot."

"Okay," Biscuit said. "I don't want Mommy to have the hot water. Me and her don't like hot things."

The next morning, Jeff was in the shower, and Biscuit said he had to go to the bathroom.

Biscuit finished his business and turned around to flush. He paused just a second, and I assumed he was remembering the conversation he had with Jeff.

Then he pushed the toilet handle down and flushed.

"Hey!" I said. "Dad's in the shower!"

"It's okay, Mom," Biscuit said. "Dad LIKES hot stuff."


Green means go: Jeff and Biscuit were driving home from day care the other day. Biscuit looked up and saw that the next traffic light was green.

"Quick, Dad, quick!" Biscuit said. "You have to make it through that light because it's your favorite color. It's green."

Jeff made it through the light with no problem.

"Yeah!" Biscuit said. "THAT's my boy!"


Biscuit's got the blues: Biscuit got a harmonica for Christmas. He calls it a cowboy harmonica and usually only plays it when he's wearing his cowboy hat.

He also got an ambulance for Christmas. It's very cool. It has working doors, two EMTs, a patient, a stretcher complete with an IV pole and bag.

For some reason, Biscuit wouldn't just swing open the back doors to put the stretcher in. He kept taking the doors completely off. Then he would bring them to me and ask me to put them back on.

After a couple of times of telling him not to take the doors off anymore, I told Biscuit that if he did it again, I'd take the ambulance away for a while.

Less than a minute later, Biscuit walked over and handed me the ambulance in one hand and the doors in the other.

"Mom" Biscuit said. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry about that, Mom. It's all my fault."

"Give me the ambulance," I said to Biscuit.

"You're going to fix the doors?" Biscuit asked.

"No," I said. "I'm going to put up the ambulance for a while."

"But Mom ..." Biscuit started.

"No," I said. "I told you, and you didn't listen."

"But I ..." Biscuit started again.

"No," I said. "I told you if you pull the doors off again, I would take away the ambulance. You can get it back later."

Biscuit hung his head down and started walking out of the living room.

"Mom," Biscuit said. "I'm so sad."

"I'm sorry you're sad," I said. "But I'm sad, too. It makes me sad when you don't listen to me."

I couldn't make this next part up.

Biscuit grabbed his harmonica and cowboy hat and walked into my bedroom. He climbed up on the bed and started playing his harmonica.

Jeff rounded the corner of the living room and smiled at me. "Nobody knows the trouble I've seen," Jeff sang. 

"I think our boy has learned to play the blues," I said.