Out of the mouth of my babe

A few things Biscuit has said recently:

Sick time: Jeff was working from home Monday. I called him a little after 5 p.m. and said, "I'm coming home. I feel terrible."

I couldn't really describe how I was feeling except ... awful.

I got home and immediately changed my clothes and crawled into bed. Jeff came in and felt my forehead. "You feel hot," he said.

"I don't have a fever," I told him. "I can't remember the last time I had a fever."

Jeff got the thermometer, and yep, I had a fever.

I was in bed by the time Jeff went to pick up Biscuit. And then when Biscuit got up the next morning, I was still in bed. It was Tuesday morning, and Biscuit hadn't seen me on my feet since Monday morning. He and Jeff were standing at our bedroom door. I could feel them staring at me. Then Biscuit had a question.

"Dad, can Mom walk?" he asked.

Jeff kinda laughed, and Biscuit looked at him like he wasn't pleased at all with his response.

"Can she, Dad?" he asked.

"Yes, boy," Jeff said. "She can walk. She's just sick, and she needs to rest."

My fever broke during the night Tuesday, so I reset my alarm later and decided I would go into work later than usual.

The nicest part was that I didn't have to worry about anything. Jeff took care of everything, including meals for him, Biscuit and me, bath time for Biscuit, bedtime for Biscuit, daycare for Biscuit ... everything. I have a very good man.

The most frustrating part about the whole thing (well, other than feeling like someone had beaten me with a baseball bat), was that I didn't touch Biscuit between Monday morning and Wednesday evening.

When I picked him up at daycare Wednesday evening, I immediately grabbed him up and hugged him.

"Put me down, put me down," Biscuit said.

"Why?" I asked. "What's wrong?"

"Are you still sick, Mom?" Biscuit asked. "If you touch me, I might get sick, too."

"I'm not sick anymore," I told him.

"Okay, then pick me up again," Biscuit said.

And I did. It was nice to get my hands on him again.

Signing off: When Biscuit talks to any of his people on the phone, he always ends his conversations the same way.

When he's done talking, he says, "Well, I love you. Bye."

And that's pretty much the end of it. 

Whoever he's talking to usually says something like, "I love you, too. Bye." Because what other choice do they have?!

Biscuit was in my bedroom the other evening. He was telling me all about his most recent superhero story line.

"Mom, I'm Spider-Man," he said. "And my hands are sticky, so I can climb up buildings. And I'm not afraid to be on top of tall things. And there are bad guys, and I can put them in web jail. And then we can call the police, and then they'll put him in real jail, and he can't be a bad guy anymore. Does that sound like a good plan, Mom?"

"Yep, that sounds good," I said.

Biscuit walked to the bedroom door, then stopped and looked at me. "Okay, well, I love ..." Biscuit said, then he looked around the room, realized that he was saying to me in person what he usually says on the phone and started laughing.

"Did you hear what you almost said?" I asked him.

"Yeah, Mom," Biscuit said. "Sometimes I'm just so silly."