Out of the mouth of my babe

A few things Biscuit has said recently:

Eruption: "Mom, can you show me a volcano on the computer?" Biscuit asked.

"We can look," I told him. "Why do you want to see a volcano?"

"I just thought the latha looked really cool," Biscuit said.

"The what?" I asked him.

"The latha ... you know, the hot stuff that comes out of volcanoes," he said.

I corrected his pronunciation of lava, but not before I laughed to myself and made a note of it to share here.

Let me out! Jeff was working late the other night, so Biscuit and I were hanging out at home.

I decided to clean out the refrigerator, and I had to pour out little bits of leftovers and out-of-date sauces and dressings. I washed out all the containers for the recycling bin, and they were sitting on the kitchen counter. 

I was waiting to have dinner with Jeff when he got home, but I had made something for Biscuit to eat. I sat down at the table with him, and we started to hear a high-pitched squeal. He looked at me, and I looked at him, and we both just giggled. We had no idea what was making the noise.

"What is that noise?" Biscuit asked me.

"I have no idea," I said, then I got up and started walking around the kitchen to figure out what we were hearing. "I think it's coming from one of these jars," and I leaned over the counter to listen closer. "This is the one!" I said holding up a squeeze bottle.

"Mom, is there something in there that wants to get out?" he asked.

Why in the world would that be his first assumption?!

"I don't think so, but just in case, I'll dump it down the disposal," I said.

"That sounds like a good plan," Biscuit said.

It's a secret: We went to a restaurant the other night that gives a chocolate chip cookie with each kid's meal. Biscuit was chatty during dinner, and it was taking forever for him to get finished.

I picked up his cookie, and he was immediately worried.

"Mom, are you going to throw away my cookie?" Biscuit asked.

"No, of course not," I said. "We need to get home, so you can eat it after your bath."

"Oh, okay," he said, clearly disappointed.

We got home, and Biscuit went straight upstairs for his bath.

After his bath, Biscuit asked Jeff if they could watch a cartoon on DVD. They both got so wrapped up in the show, they forgot about Biscuit's cookie.

The next morning, Jeff said to me, "He realized as he was getting into bed that he never ate his cookie. He asked if he could have it, and I told him he could eat it for breakfast."

Biscuit came downstairs and climbed up to the kitchen table. He had a bowl of oatmeal with a cookie right beside it.

"Mom, what's this cookie doing here?" Biscuit asked.

"It's part of your breakfast," I said.

"You can't do that!" Biscuit said. "You can't eat cookies for breakfast!"

"It'll be just this once," Jeff said, "but don't tell anybody." 

Biscuit smiled and started eating his oatmeal.

As I unwrapped his cookie, he said, "Mom, this is the best secret ever!"