Here comes Trouble: Biscuit loves to play games, so as I perused the toy aisle the other night, I found Pop-o-matic Trouble. Remember that one?
Each player picks a color and has four pegs to move around the board. There's a bubble in the middle of the game board that each player pops to spin a die. Whatever number it lands on, that's how far you move your peg. The first one to get all his pegs back to his side wins.
The game says it's for ages 5 and up, but I figured if we fudged the rules a little bit, Biscuit would be fine.
Biscuit was so excited. And of course, he asked to be red. We started out with one peg each, and Biscuit won. Jeff and I looked at each other because we don't let Biscuit win, but even if we wanted to, there's really no way to make that happen with this game. You pop the bubble and move that many times. That's it.
Tonight, we added a second peg into the mix. And Biscuit beat us in three games. He has won every game we've played. And of course, Jeff and I want to win because Biscuit is a bad sport when he loses, and we're working hard to change that. But we have nothing to work with if he wins all the time!
A bed-full: We have been so very lucky with Biscuit and his sleeping. He transferred from his crib to his toddler bed with no drama, and he has loved that bed ever since.
Since he moved into his toddler bed, we've been putting a baby gate at his door. Mainly because when you get to the top of our staircase, there's a loft area with a railing that overlooks the living room. We didn't want him to have access to that or the stairs during the night, especially because Jeff had some sleepwalking episodes when he was a kid, and we didn't know if there would be a chance for Biscuit to follow suit.
We've also been very lucky with the bathroom stuff. Biscuit potty-trained really easily, and since then, he's had one accident in bed. That's it.
So a couple of weeks ago, Biscuit said he was worried that he might need to go to the bathroom sometime at night, and he couldn't go because of the gate at his door. Jeff and I talked about it and decided we'd move the gate from his doorway to the top of the stairs. That would give Biscuit straight-shot access to the bathroom.
The next morning, Biscuit came walking into our bedroom.
"How did you get past the gate?" I asked him.
"I just moved it," Biscuit said. So Jeff and I decided to do away with the gate altogether.
Biscuit hasn't fall down the stairs, and as far as I know, he hasn't stumbled into a closet thinking it was the bathroom to take care of business.
But the other night, I heard him coming down the stairs. It made me a little nervous because the only light is a small nightlight at the bottom of the stairs. He made it down safely and came into mine and Jeff's bedroom.
"Are you okay?" I asked him. I'm not sure what he was trying to tell me, but he was talking gibberish. He wasn't making any sense. I told him to crawl in our bed with us, and he barely made it in before he was asleep again.
The next morning, Jeff went upstairs to get Biscuit's clothes, and he noticed that his bedside lamp was on. So he talked to Biscuit about it.
"Do you remember what happened last night? Did you have a bad dream?" Jeff asked him.
"No. I didn't have a bad dream, Dad," Biscuit said. "I just woke up, and it was dark, and I was by myself."
"Do you get scared in the dark all the time?" Jeff asked him.
"No. Just sometimes, Dad," Biscuit said. "I'm not scared all the time, but sometimes I don't want to be alone."
I'm glad I wasn't having that conversation with him because I would've just cried right there. The thought of him being scared anytime upsets me. But on the other hand, it makes me feel good that when Biscuit got scared, his first step was to turn on his bedside lamp. Then I can imagine him saying, "Well, that didn't work. I'm going to get Mom and Dad."
Jeff ended up moving to the couch at some point that night because Biscuit is not a fun bed partner. He tends to take up way more room than a person his size ought to. Jeff didn't have to work the next day, so he took one for the team and hit the couch.
And I did worry the next night, wondering if Biscuit's trip downstairs was a one-time thing or if he would come down again. But he stayed upstairs, and he's been fine since then.
That's not funny: Biscuit loves getting mail with his name on it. He does a little dance right there at the mailbox. So when a friend of mine told me she was going to Scotland, I asked her if she'd send Biscuit a postcard. While we were talking about it, another friend overheard our conversation and asked if she could send Biscuit a letter. I told her of course she could, and her letter came the other day.
My friend had gone online and searched for "jokes for 4-year-olds" and included several of them in her letter.
They were along the lines of ...
What do cows do on the weekend?
They go to mooooooovies.
She had no way of knowing this, but Biscuit doesn't get jokes yet. He does know, however, that it is socially appropriate to laugh at a joke. So when I said, "Hey, she included some jokes in your letter," he would wait until I started reading one, then he would just start laughing like crazy.
The whole thing made me laugh because Biscuit wasn't laughing at the punchline. He would just start laughing at random times during the jokes. Because he knew he was supposed to.
He's been trying to get it since then, and he keeps asking us to tell him jokes -- knock-knocks and other kinds.
My favorite knock-knock joke as a kid was ...
Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Banana.
Banana who?
Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Banana.
Banana who?
Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Orange.
Orange who?
Orange you glad I didn't say banana again?
Biscuit tried to replicate the joke for Jeff tonight during bathtime.
Here's his verion ...
Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Banana ... banana ... banana ... apple. It's a good thing I didn't say banana again.
And he laughed and laughed and laughed.
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