Out of the mouth of my babe

A few things Biscuit has said recently:

To hear or not to hear: Sometimes we say things to Biscuit, and it's like it goes in one ear and out the other. Then sometimes he surprises us by quoting verbatim something we told him what seems like forever ago.

Biscuit can be a bad sport when we're playing games. He doesn't like to lose, and he doesn't like to play games he isn't good at. He thinks the first time he plays a game, he should play well and win. And he pouts and wants to quit when that doesn't happen.

And then sometimes, he looks you straight in the eye and repeats something you said to him at least two years ago.

"Mom, you know what happens when you play a game? You get what you get, and you don't pitch a fit," Biscuit said.

The best part? We weren't even playing a game. He just quoted that scolding out of thin air!


Have it your way: Biscuit's language is a mixed-up version of mine and Jeff's accents and word choice.

Biscuit says that Jeff "mows the lawn" instead of "cut the grass" like I say. Biscuit also "presses" buttons. I "mash" them.

I eat "hamburgers," but Jeff eats "burgers." I could've sworn I've said "hamburgers" around Biscuit before, but one recent night, Biscuit seemed a little confused.

"Mom, what are we having for dinner?" Biscuit asked.

Actually, here's another one, although it's a family thing, not a cultural one. Jeff says "sloppy joes," and we always called them "scrambled hamburgers."

So when Biscuit asked what we were having for dinner, I said, "We're having scrambled hamburgers."

To which Biscuit replied, "I want a hamburger, but I don't want any ham on it. Okay, Mom?"

"I'll see what I can do," I told him.


More food fun: "Mom, what did you make me for lunch?" Biscuit asked.

"Grilled cheese sandwich," I said to him.

"Mom, does it HAVE to be a girl cheese sandwich or can it be a boy cheese sandwich?" Biscuit asked. "I would rather have a boy cheese sandwich."

"It's not 'girl' cheese, it's GRILLED cheese," I said to Biscuit.

"OH!" Biscuit said. "That was a close one, Mom."

Christmas with family

We spent the weekend before Christmas with my family. Since they live 2 1/2 hours away from us, it's a little too much to do in one day, so we usually go there the weekend before or weekend after Christmas.

My family likes to play, so we did a lot of that while we were there.

We met my brother and his family for dinner Friday night on our way there. Then Saturday morning, we went to my nephew's basketball game. He's 9, and he's really getting into his playing. I think Biscuit enjoyed watching him and yelling for him.

My Mama and I made some candy and cookies Saturday afternoon while Biscuit took a nap. 

And speaking of Biscuit's naps, I don't know what we're going to do come August when the boy starts kindergarten. They don't take naps in kindergarten anymore. I don't know how Biscuit is going to make it through the day without sleeping for a while.

Anyway, Saturday evening, my niece read the Christmas story, and we opened our presents. It seemed like we got done earlier than past years, so I was trying to think of something fun to do with the kids.

At 8:30 p.m. on that December night, it was 65 degrees (it had been 72 degrees that afternoon), so I figured we could take advantage of that and head outside.

Flashlight tag!

We gathered all the flashlights we could find and everyone from 5-year-old Biscuit to my 73-year-old Daddy played. The way you play is that one person is "it." You set boundaries like, you can hide from this driveway to the front of the shop to the house to the road, but not in the field. With that established, the "it" person stays in the house and counts to 30 while everyone else heads outside to hide. You can use your flashlight to find your hiding spot, but then you turn it off and keep still. 

The "it" person turns on his or her flashlight and heads out looking for people. If the "it" person's light shines on somebody, that person who was shined has to run to base (which was the front porch).

Got it?

Most places still have too much light around, even at night, but at my parents' house, there are no street lights. If the moon isn't shining, it's dark. DARK!

I wish I could explain how funny it was to watch Jeff chase my Daddy to the front porch base.

We did cheat one time. All the hiders walked out and stood in the field, even though our rules strictly prohibited being in the field. Then we all stifled giggles as we watched Jeff and Biscuit search frantically around the yard. We let them look for a while, then we all rushed the yard onto the porch. (And the fact that we were standing as a group in an open field, and Jeff and Biscuit couldn't see us should explain just how dark it was.)

We went to my parents' church Sunday morning, then all had lunch together. It's always so loud when all 10 of us are together. The kids are playing and squealing. The adults are trying to talk over the kids. But it's very festive.

It was still really warm, so the kids were outside without jackets. Then my brother hooked the trailer behind the tractor and took us on a hay ride.

We rode through the field.

We rode through the woods.

Then back into the field again.

I'm not sure why Biscuit was holding so tight to
my niece's jacket sleeve. Her arm wasn't even in it.

Despite the serious look on Biscuit's face, we all had fun. At some point, we started singing Christmas carols. It did feel a little weird to be singing, "Dashing through the snow" when we were riding on a trailer with short sleeves and no jackets.

When we looked up and saw these clouds moving in, we knew we better head back to the barn. And we timed it just right. We were back in the house about five minutes when the skies opened and the heavens poured.

A little while later, Jeff, Biscuit and I had to make the dreaded ride home. It always seems to take twice as long to get home as it does to get there. But everybody had a good time, and we have the memories and pictures to prove it!

A few random things

Here are a few random Biscuit stories:

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.