Out of the mouth of my babe

A few things Biscuit has said recently:


Lookin' good: The overhaul we had done on our master bathroom went really smoothly until right at the end. There was a problem with the glass that goes around the shower. So the tile was down, the tub was in, the walls and ceiling were painted, but the shower didn't have a surround.

The glass finally arrived, and our contractor got it installed. That evening, Jeff and I walked in the front door and went straight into our bathroom to see how it looked. You wouldn't believe what a difference some glass around a shower can make.

Biscuit started looking around with his hands on his hips, then he started nodding his head.

"It looks pretty good indeed," he said and kept nodding his head.

That boy should've been born in an earlier decade because he is an old, old soul.


Word play: When Jeff and I were in Charleston, we went to a minor league baseball game. They were having $1 beer night, and the group of guys in front of us was not being shy about getting refills.

Late in the game, the batter hit the ball toward third base. The third baseman reached for the ball, but missed it. The ball went out of bounds, the ump called it a foul, and the batter came back to try again.

Somehow or another, the guys in front of us decided that the third baseman actually used his glove to knock the ball out of bounds. So they started yelling insults at the third baseman.

One guy, who was clearly too drunk to come up with a decent insult, said, "You ... you ... you ball-toucher with your big hand!"

Jeff and I laughed and laughed at the fact that the guy couldn't come up with anything better to say.

When we got home, Biscuit overheard me telling someone what the guy said. He giggled about it and from time to time, he repeats it for no good reason.

Last night, we were shopping for my niece's birthday present, and the store we were in was at least 1,000 degrees. It was so hot! I had already been to three stores, it was past dinnertime, and I was ready to go home. And yes, I was grumpy, too.

Jeff came up behind me, put his hand on my lower back and said, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Yes," I said. "You can get your hot hand off my back." He was being sweet, but I swear, there was heat radiating off his hand.

Biscuit looked up at Jeff and with a completely straight face said, "DAD! You shirt-toucher with your hot hand!"