The Fair - On Video

One of our friends got free passes and ride tickets to the local fair. All we had to pay for was food (corn dogs, sweet tea and funnel cakes to be more specific!). We all had a great time together. She also took some video with her fancy-dancy iPhone. Check it out:

Jeff took Biscuit on the big slide. They had to stand in line for a while, and I heard later that the stairs up the side of the thing were pretty rickety. You'll notice at the end that Biscuit takes off running? He was heading around the back to do it again. He doesn't understand the whole you-have-to-have-a-ticket and you-have-to-stand-in-line sort of stuff.



Did you know that there's a difference between a carousel and a merry-go-round? Carousels only have horses, but merry-go-rounds have all kinds of animals. It was news to me, too! Here's Biscuit and me on the carousel.



Beach music and french fries. What more could a kid want?!?



Biscuit gets excited ... REALLY excited about the goats.

There's a kid in my car!

Last Friday morning, Jeff and I were running late for work. Neither of us remembered to set our alarm clocks. So I woke up with a start and hit the floor running. And of course, it seemed like everything we needed to do to get ready took twice as long as usual.

We all got clean, brushed our teeth and put on our clothes. Then we had the discussion about who had what going on that day, and I was voted in as the "take Biscuit to day care" person.

Jeff left for work, and I buckled Biscuit into his car seat. We drove out of the neighborhood, and as we got on the main road, my mind started racing with all the things I needed to get done that day ... work-wise, home-wise, mama-wise, etc.

I turned onto a four-lane highway and set the cruise control as I headed to work. Then I heard this little voice say, "Truck, Mama. Truck."

OH, CRAP! There's a kid in my car!!!

I was more than halfway to work when I realized that Biscuit was still in the back seat! That four-lane highway I mentioned? I was never even supposed to get on that road. Day care is in another direction.

So, I turned on a side street and backtracked my way to Biscuit's day care. I was all flustered when I dropped him off. I told the director what had happened, and because she has three kids of her own, she just laughed and laughed.

"Hey, at least you didn't leave him at home or in the parked car in your work parking lot," she said.

Some days I think this Mama job has completely erased my memory and common sense!

My little helper

Biscuit likes to help. It makes him very proud of himself when he does something that warrants a big "thank you" from me or his Dada.

When we're doing laundry, he likes to help transfer the wet clothes to the dryer. Then he likes to close the dryer door so I can turn it on. Sometimes his "help" isn't exactly helpful. When we take the clothes out of the dryer and start folding them into piles, sometimes he jumps on the piles and rolls around. I love it when I have to fold the laundry twice (did you feel the sarcasm oozing out of that sentence?!?).

Biscuit also likes the help with the mail. When we get out of the car in the evening, we walk to the end of the driveway to the mailbox. Biscuit knows he has to stop where the driveway ends. I step out into the street and take the mail out of the box. Then I have to hand at least one piece to Biscuit so he can carry it in the house.

Today I learned that Biscuit helps at daycare, too. For story time, the kids have to sit on a big piece of carpet in the story area. As you know, Biscuit loves him some books. So they say he gets pretty excited about story time. So today, the teacher walked over to the story time area and started calling the other kids. She said she looked down, and Biscuit was standing right beside her, waving his hand and saying, "Moan to carpet, read book" to the other kids. (He doesn't say "come on" ... just "moan.")

Biscuit is also doing his part to save the Earth. He knows that cans go in the recycling can instead of the trash can. So when Jeff and I finish canned drinks, he likes to take the cans to the recycling bin. The first time it happened, I wasn't sure where he was taking the can. So I sat on the couch and listened closely. I heard him drop it right into the bin. I made sure to make a big fuss when he got back to the living room. And he looked very proud of himself.

And we're proud of him, too.

Food for thought

A post from The Daddy Man:

Kim was out running errands, and I put together a plate of leftovers for Biscuit's dinner. He had some macaroni and cheese and some oven-fried chicken.

I warmed it up, and the boy seemed hungry enough, but he only picked at his food while he was at the table. Then, he said, "Down, please."

I didn't think he had had enough to eat, so after he ran into the living room to play some more, I grabbed his plate and brought it with me. I sat on the couch and pretended to eat the food on Biscuit's plate. He's always very interested in having some of whatever is on everyone else's plate, so when he thought he saw me eating, he walked over and said, "Bite, bite, bite, please."

I gave him a bite then pretended to start eating again. "Bite, please. Bite." I gave him another bite and this continued until he had cleaned his plate.

I'm figuring out that sometimes parenting involves just a little bit of trickery.

Noise, noise and more noise

A lot of Biscuit's toys (most of them, actually) were gifts from friends and family. And I usually have a pretty good memory about where things came from.

So, when Biscuit plays with his toys, I often think of the people who gave them to him.

So ...

Thank you, Grandmama and Grandpapa for the push-toy popcorn popper. It's especially nice when we're watching a movie, and Biscuit decides to go pop-pop-popping round and round from the living room to the dining room to the kitchen to the hallway and back into the living room.

Thank you, Grandma and Grandpa for the music table. It plays instruments and sings songs and names letters and colors. It's lovely. Especially after you've heard the same thing over and over and over again. And also especially when Biscuit gets stuck on just a couple of the buttons, and the music table suddenly becomes a rap DJ table. B-b-b-b-b-b-lue circle. B-b-b-b-b-blue circle.

Then there's the carrot car. One of my friends got Biscuit a dragster that looks like a carrot. It has a removable rabbit driver. When you pop the rabbit back into the driver's seat, you get revving noises and tire-squealing noises. It's really cute ... for the first 12,000 times you hear it!

Another friend gave Biscuit a stuffed Easter duck that's wearing a rabbit costume. The duck is very soft, so Biscuit loves it when I attack him with it. The duck nuzzles Biscuit's neck, then he runs around yelling "Cack, cack, cack, cack!" (His way of saying "quack.")

Biscuit's aunt and uncle gave him an animated Eeyore that sings "If You're Happy and You Know It, Flap Your Ears" and "Do Your Ears Hang Low." Every time that donkey starts singing, Biscuit's face lights up like it's Christmas. You'd think I'd get tired of those songs, but it's actually still amusing to me. Of course, you can check back in six months and see if that's still my opinion.

Yet another friend gave Biscuit a cool toy that's kinda hard to describe. It has a twisty-turny tube that winds it's way around and down inside the toy. When you push the plunger on the side, air starts circulating through the tube and several balls start to bubble out of the top, then roll down a ramp back into the machine. I have to say, I like the way this toy works. But of course, it has obnoxious music and this loud humming noise that sounds like a small generator. A few times of watching the balls float out of this thing and back inside, I'm ready to flip the off switch.

My question is ... Why do the cool toys always have to make noise?!?

The land of nod

6:51 a.m. ... in the morning ... on a Saturday ... that's what time I got up this morning.

It's so not fair. Jeff and Biscuit were both still sleeping, and I say, if my boys are sleeping, I should be sleeping, too.

I remember when Biscuit was a wee tiny baby, and many of my mom friends told me to make sure I took naps when the baby took naps. I was never able to make that happen. I always found things that I needed or wanted to do more than sleep. But I swear, the older that child gets, the more I crave those naps I should've taken then.

I've never been much of a napper. They have usually left me feeling more groggy than refreshed. But lately, on the weekends, I've been sneaking in afternoon siestas when Biscuit goes to sleep. There's a little guilt there. I feel like I should be doing something productive, doing something I couldn't do if he was awake. But lately, the luxury and restorative power of those naps has sapped away that small bit of guilt.

As a matter of fact, Biscuit is napping right now, and I'm kinda mad that I'm in the process of doing laundry and writing this blog post instead of stealing a few winks!

Mind your manners

Our Biscuit baby is working hard on his manners. And we're very proud of him. Manners are important to both Jeff and me. We both had them drilled into us when we were kids, and we want to continue that tradition.

So far, we've worked on saying "please," "thank you," "you're welcome" and "bless you" (for sneezes).

Biscuit brings books to us and says, "Read book, please." Okay, actually, he says "Ree book, peas." But still, "please" is the important part.

When he's finished eating, Biscuit will say, "Down, please," for us to take him out of his high chair.

He also says, "Bite, please," when he wants some of whatever we have. That one is probably the most common of his mannerly phrases.

Biscuit struggles a little with "thank you" and "you're welcome." When we give him something, we'll say, "Say 'thank you.'" To which he usually says, "You're welcome." Or actually, "You wellwa."

He does say "thank you" when someone blesses his sneezes, though, and "bless you" when someone else sneezes. Jeff sneezed this morning, and here was the conversation:

Jeff: (sneezes)
Biscuit: Bless you, Dada.
Jeff: Thank you, Biscuit.
Biscuit: You wellwa.

Emily Post would be proud.

Happy husband

I think the sports genes are kicking in with Biscuit.

When shown a soccer picture, Biscuit says, "Kick ball."

When shown a golfer, Biscuit says, "Hit ball."

When shown a baseball player, Biscuit says, "Catch ball."

Yep. Husband is happy.

Sick but still funny

I had to take Biscuit to the doctor this evening at 6:40. Our appointment was at 6:40. I didn't even know doctors' offices stayed open that late.

Biscuit is okay. He has a sinus infection. Nothing 10 days of antibiotics won't take care of.

But he was so pitiful today. I was trying to work from home, but he just wanted to be in close contact at all times. It's hard to edit stories with a little one lying diagonally across your chest.

When we got to the doctor's office, we were the only people in the waiting room, and Biscuit decided that he needed to touch every chair in the place. There are probably 30 chairs in the waiting room, and he touched each one and said, "Chair" every time.

Then when the nurse came out and called Biscuit's name, he looked at her, put his hand on his chest and said, "Me." Yep, she's talking to you, Biscuit.

He stood on the big-boy scales ... 23 pounds. Then she took his temperature in his ear. "Good job," the nurse said. "Thank you," Biscuit said.

It seemed to take forever for the doctor to come in. We read several books, we named all the animals in the pictures on the walls. They had a wall chart to measure the kids' heights. It had cute monkeys on it that were holding flowers and bananas. I called Biscuit over to show it to him.

"Look at the monkeys, Biscuit. This one is holding a banana," I said to him.

"Niiiiice," he said. My little man still has his mojo, even when he's sick.

Two shows in two days

We just got back from our second car show this weekend. We had one last night that was a cruise-in, and one this afternoon that was a regular park-it-and-wait-for-it-to-be-judged kind of show.

Last night, we met a couple of friends and their son, who is 3 months younger than Biscuit. The town where they live blocks off main street after classic cars pull in diagonally down both sides of the street. Then people can just walk around checking out the rides.

It took Jeff and me longer than we thought it would to get to the show. We both got out of work later than we'd hoped, plus, we had to pick Biscuit up at day care, go home, change clothes, get the Barracuda out, then drive 30 minutes to the cruise-in. By the time we got there, they had already closed off the street.

We have to drive two cars when we go to shows because the Barracuda isn't equipped to handle a baby seat, plus, with Biscuit's history of ear infections, I really don't want him blowing in the wind from the back seat of a convertible.

So Biscuit and I found a parking spot in a bank parking lot. And as soon as I opened the back of the car, it hit me ... when I was packing to go to the lake last weekend, I took Biscuit's stroller out of the car. I was two blocks away from where the cars were, and even farther away from where our friends were. Luckily, as soon as Biscuit and I caught up with our friends, I had some toting help.

Jeff couldn't figure out how to get parked, so he asked a police officer. The guy told him that the only way he could get in was to go through the TV line. So here's Jeff, just arriving in town, and he hops right in line in front of all the other cars and gets on TV. My husband, the camera hog! Our friend sent us a link to the local cable TV channel so we could watch Jeff cruising through downtown and his interview with the show's host. They'll rebroadcast it from time to time until the next cruise-in.

By the time Jeff found a parking place, both kids were hungry, so we headed into a tasty burger joint. By the time we made it out of there, a lot of the cars were heading for home. They have several cruise-ins a year, so I guess we'll have to plan better for the next one.

The show we went to today was the 16th annual show for a local car club. Jeff entered the same show two years ago (and won a trophy). And he won a trophy today, too. This area is very Chevy and Ford laden, so when a Mopar shows up, it usually gets a lot of attention.

We met a really nice guy from one town over. His dad had given him the car he entered, just like Jeff's dad gave him his Barracuda. It was nice to talk to him, especially hearing him and Jeff both talk about how their cars have way more sentimental value than they ever will monetary value.

Biscuit took a quick nap during the afternoon, but for the most part, he was perfectly content sitting in his stroller looking around. Although, he did get a bigger kick out of the ducks, dogs and babies than the beautiful cars that were all around him!

After the trophies were handed out, Biscuit and I were heading back to our car. All the entrances but one were blocked off, so as we walked, all the cars started parading past us. I found a shady spot, and we stopped and just watch the cars come by. I explained to Biscuit what each car was and whether we liked it or not (and being a Ford girl from way back, I think I was pretty fair in including some Chevys on my list of what we liked).

I hope for Jeff's sake that our boy takes an interest in cars. If his behavior right now is any indication, I don't think I have anything to worry about!

Bad Mama!

I pulled into the driveway yesterday evening and started mine and Biscuit's evening routine.

I pack up all of my stuff and set it in the passenger seat. Then I get out and open Biscuit's door and get him out. Then we walk to the mailbox where I have to give him a letter of some sort to carry, then we head back to the front passenger seat of the car, grab my stuff and head into the house.

I'm routine oriented. This is what we do every day. So imagine my surprise when I opened Biscuit's door yesterday evening and see him just sitting in his car seat ... with NO STRAPS BUCKLED!!!!

I set him in his seat when I picked him up from day care and never fastened the straps on his seat. Me ... MRS. ROUTINE.

Thank goodness our ride home was uneventful. And that Biscuit isn't more rambunctious in his seat.

Of Poots and Poo

I realize that Biscuit will probably find some of these blog posts embarrassing one day. So, I'm going to share an embarrassing story about myself to help make up for it.

Here goes ...

I was standing in the kitchen one night last week. And I thought I was all by myself. I was already in my nightgown.

I didn't know it, but Biscuit was standing right behind me.

I farted. Yes, you read that right. I thought I was alone!

Biscuit then hiked up the tail of my gown, patted my butt, and said, "Poo, Mama? Poo?"

"No, baby. But thanks for asking," I said to him.

Mama time, Part 2

Remember when I talked about leaving my boys at home for the weekend so I could spend some time with my girlfriends at the lake? Well, my dear husband said I didn't tell the whole story.

I did only talk to Jeff and Biscuit on the phone a couple of times. But during those phone calls, I had a whole list of information to pass along to Jeff.

I'm a control freak. I'll be the first to admit it. I always have a plan in my head.

So when I heard that Jeff and Biscuit were going to a car show Saturday and a ballgame Sunday, I really, really, REALLY needed to impart the proper procedure of how everything should be done.

This is where I realize that I married exactly the right man.

"Jeff, I know that you are perfectly capable of handling Biscuit for a weekend, but can I go through the list for my own peace of mind?" I asked him.

"Yep. Shoot," Jeff said.

"You need to take your diaper bag, but make sure there are diapers, wipes, changing pads, a spare outfit, a sippy cup, a pacifier and some snacks," I told him.

"See? It's a good thing you ran through the list because I wouldn't have thought to take snacks," Jeff said.

I'm not sure if I really helped him get ready or if he was just appeasing his crazy wife! Either way, he knows me well enough to know how to keep me calm. And that's a good, good thing.

When Mama's away ...

When Mama's away, the boys will play. This is what I found out when I called home from my girls' lake weekend.

Friday night, Jeff and Biscuit stayed home and watched "Adam-12" DVDs. They had PB&J sandwiches for dinner.

Saturday afternoon, they went to a car show, then had pizza and bread sticks for dinner.

Sunday afternoon, Biscuit and Jeff went with one of Jeff's friends and his son to a minor league ballgame where Biscuit ate french fries from a cup with ketchup, of course. (Between my mother-in-law and my brother, Biscuit has mastered the art of dipping ... chicken nuggets in honey mustard, fries in ketchup, even hush puppies in BBQ sauce.)

Biscuit wore a borrowed hat until the sun went over the back of the stadium.

After the game, Jeff and Biscuit went to the gift shop, and Jeff bought Biscuit his own Hoppers baseball cap. And to say Biscuit liked it is an understatement.

When Jeff brought Biscuit home from day care Monday, Biscuit was wearing the hat. When Jeff changed Biscuit into pajamas that evening, Biscuit came right back into the living room and grabbed his hat.

Jeff teases me because I wear my hats down close to my eyes in the front. He always says, "You're rockin' that hat low, aren't you, babycakes?"

I guess I passed that along to Biscuit. He rocks his hat low, too. So low that he makes his ears stick out.

We keep trying to adjust it on his head so it won't crimp his ears down, but he'll just reach up and pull it right back where he wants it.

Oh yeah, and when my boys weren't out and about, they were partying in the bathroom. Check this out:

Mama time

I spent this past weekend with three girlfriends in a rented lake house. I went Friday evening after work and didn't return home until Monday evening.

Surprised? Yeah, me, too.

But look at the view. You would've stayed all that time, too!

When we were planning the trip, I wasn't sure how long I'd be able to stay. Part of that was because with kids, you never know. But also, I just didn't know if I could stay away that long. I've never been away from Biscuit that long.

There were several times throughout the weekend that I was tempted to pack up and come home. But every time that happened, I got out my laptop and looked at pictures and videos of Biscuit. I just kept telling myself that the trip was good for me (time for me to rest and recharge), good for Biscuit (to spend some time away from me) and good for Jeff (so he can see what it's like for me during basketball season!).

We carried lots of junk food, celebrity magazines, romance books and slouchy clothes. The other ladies spent some time in the water, but I made it as far as the floating dock at the end of the pier, and that was far enough for me!

I talked to my boys on the phone a few times, and I think they missed me. But not too much. They found plenty to do (see the next post).

When I got back Monday afternoon, I started the laundry and made a nice meal for dinner. Because Biscuit had junk food all weekend, he wanted nothing to do with the meat and veggies I set before him. So he pitched a fit at the dinner table.

Then as I was trying to get the table cleared and get my bags unpacked, it seemed like Jeff was in my way no matter which direction I turned. I had to go into our bedroom for a few minutes to regroup.

I had the whole weekend of worrying about nothing. I ate when I was hungry, not because the schedule said it was time. I slept when I was sleepy, not because I knew the alarm was going off in a few hours. I read more than a chapter at a time in my book. I sat on the deck just staring up into the trees. Basically, I had no responsibilities.

But then I had to step back into reality. And it was harder than I thought it would be. I was thinking about getting hugs and kisses, reading kid books and sitting at the dinner table together, but I wasn't prepared for the boys being in my way, nobody wanting the dinner I made and Biscuit having a bad day.

But I folded some laundry, went through some mail and put my cosmetics back in the bathroom, and then I got my groove back.

I missed my boys terribly while I was gone, but I also learned that a little time for Mama every now and then is certainly not a bad thing.

Our little man ... and I mean little

Check out Biscuit's in his new outfit.























Biscuit has a dresser drawer full of summer-season clothes that he can't wear. They're all too big. He's still smaller than most kids his age, and we've had a really hard time finding shorts for him.

The sizes generally go by age. Biscuit is 20 months old, but he wears 18-month shirts and 12-month shorts. He actually has a couple of pairs of 9-month shorts he can still wear. His waist is so little that when we put a pair of the 18-month shorts on him, he took off running and literally ran right out of them.

The outfit in the picture above is brand new. It's size 12-month. I told Jeff that I hate to buy new clothes so late in the season, but everything is on sale right now, and hey, the boy's gotta have something to wear that fits.

Eavesdropping

Sometimes when I hear Jeff and Biscuit interacting, I just stand outside the door and listen. They're so funny together. Here are three recent conversations:

Jeff was helping Biscuit eat breakfast. Biscuit had half a piece of toast left and decided that he needed to let his Hot Wheels truck drive over it.

Jeff: Biscuit. That is an off-road truck not an on-toast truck.

Biscuit: Yeah. Truck.

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The three of us were on our way home from day care today, and Jeff noticed that a family's side yard was covered in kudzu.

Jeff: Wow. They have lots of kudzu.

Biscuit: Bless you, Dada.

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Biscuit couldn't reach the cars he wanted, so he came in the living room to find Jeff.

Biscuit: Mone, Dada. Mone. Hope (which means help).

Jeff (after getting the cars down for Biscuit): Say thank you.

Biscuit: You're welcome.

Not nice

Biscuit was sitting on our bed earlier this evening, when he decided it would be fun to try walking around up there.

We have a king-size bed, and it's pretty high up off the floor. So high that I have a step stool to get up there. (Don't make fun. I'm short!)

It was actually funny, because we got that bed at the same time my nephew was moving into a big-boy bed, so we just called our bed my big-girl bed.

So anyway, Biscuit was walking around on my big-girl bed, and he was getting a little too close to the opposite edge. So Jeff told him to come over to his side. He grabbed Biscuit's arm and pulled him over closer.

Apparently, Biscuit didn't think this was a good thing to do. He looked at Jeff and said, "No, no, no! NOT nice!"

We be illin'

There are many things I love about our day care.

The multitude of random illnesses my sweet Biscuit baby brings home isn't one of them.

Colds and stomach bugs have plagued our house since he started, and from what I hear, this is a pretty common scenario. The funny thing is that the teachers and workers wash their hands. They wash the kids' hands. And they have all these safety measures in place.

But there's only so much you can do to ward off snotty-nosed, runny-butted little munchkins.

And thanks to those snotty-nosed, runny-butted little munchkins, I had to stay home from work today, and Biscuit has had massive, and I mean MASSIVE!!!! diaper issues. Just ask Jeff, he had to put our comforter, his clothes and Biscuit's clothes in the washing machine about an hour ago.

Hopefully, everything will come out in the wash. And after all, tomorrow is another day.

Look how much I've grown

We got Biscuit's pool out last weekend and saw just how much he's grown since last year. I found a bigger pool on markdown this week, so he'll have more room to play now.

Here he is last July and this July. Check out the difference.

Patience? Not with food

We haven’t had too many tantrums … thank goodness. But when we do, they’re usually good ones! You’d think the world was ending. And 9 times out of 10, it revolves around food. As in, Biscuit thinks we’re never going to feed him ever again!

Jeff and Biscuit met me out shopping last week, and as I headed to the check out counters, I realized it was later than I thought. I looked at Jeff and said, “What do you think about going to The Hut?” I couldn’t say “pizza” or “dinner” because Biscuit knows exactly what those words mean. And as sweet as he can be, he will melt down on the spot if we mention food and don’t have any to give him. Plus, I’ve discussed just how much our boy loves pizza.

Since Jeff had his own car, he headed over early, hoping that he could order, and it would be on the table by the time we got there. Wrong! The Hut was packed! Biscuit and I got there, and Jeff had just placed our order. It was already 7:15, so I knew Biscuit was hungry.

We were playing with his Hot Wheels cars on the table, and I thought we might be okay. And then it happened. The family behind me got their pizza. The family behind Jeff got their pizza. And the family out beside us got their pizza. All within 30 seconds.

Jeff and I looked at each other, then looked a Griffin. I think Jeff and I both physically winced knowing that it was coming. Biscuit could see their pizza. He could smell their pizza. And he had no idea why they all had pizza and he didn’t. “SEET-SAH!!!!! SEET-SAH!!!! SEEEEEEEET-SAAAAAAAAH!!!! he yelled, mixed in with sobs.

This is the same kid who rides 7 hours in the car to Georgia with no complaining. This is the same kid who spends an hour riding in the buggy around Target just naming over all the things he knows words for … dog, baby, car, ball.

But when it comes to food, THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS PATIENCE!!!!!

Finally, our pizza came. As the server put it on the table, Biscuit’s little eyes just lit up. There was a huge smile on his face. And then I said one of the words he hates most. “Hot. It’s too hot, baby.” And there he goes again.

He sees the pizza. He smells the pizza. The pizza is sitting right in front of his face, but he can’t have any? What?!?!? So I’m slicing and dicing and blowing on his pizza until I dang-near hyperventilated. I finally got a piece cooled off enough and shoved it in his mouth. “Mmmmm,” he said. “More? More?”

“Dang! I just got that piece cooled down.” Slice, dice, hyperventilate … slice, dice, hyperventilate … slice, dice, hyperventilate. Eventually, it was all cool enough for him to eat. And then he was back to my sweet little Biscuit.

This Week in Biscuit: The Collected Short Stories

Here are some things about Biscuit that have amused Jeff and me over the past couple of weeks.

Seet-sah: Have I mentioned that my Biscuit baby loves him some pizza? I make my own chicken nuggets. I cut chicken breasts into small pieces, dip them in an egg, then shake them up in a zip-top bag with seasoned bread crumbs and some Parmesan cheese.

And it just so happens that the pan that I use to cook them on (a large rectangle baking pan) is also the pan I use to make homemade pizza. The chicken chunks were ready to go in the oven, so I slid the baking pan out of the drawer, just as Biscuit walked into the room.

“Seet-sah!” he yelled.

“No, baby. I’m making chicken nuggets.”

“Seet-sah!” he said.

“No. Chicken,” I explained.

“Chitten?” he asked.

“Yes. Chicken.”

“Oh,” he says and walks out of the room.

Luckily, he felt just fine about eating “chitten” when it came out of the oven!

Blue: In Biscuit’s day care class, they have a color of the week. So he’s starting to notice colors more. One morning this week, Biscuit came out of our closet saying, “Blue, Mama. Blue.” And yes, what he was holding was definitely blue. My new blue bra. It’s a little unnerving to see a 20-month-old running around with a blue bra trailing behind him.

Shoes: This is probably a little more than you want to know about me, but one morning this week I was in the bathroom taking care of business, and I didn’t shut the door all the way. So SOMEbody (do I even need to name him?) decided that no bathroom trip would be complete without shoes.

So Biscuit went into my closet, dragged out an old blue flip-flop, yanked open the bathroom door and said, “Shoe. Shoe. Shoe, Mama.” I said, “Yep. That’s a shoe.” Then I had to put it on. I guess he thought I needed a matching pair because then he went back and got the other one, and I had to put it on, too.

Then a little later, as I was brushing my teeth (still wearing my old blue flip-flops), Biscuit picked out a different pair of flip-flops that I needed to wear. I told Jeff that it was like those divas who host the award shows, except instead of several costume changes during the show, I had several shoe changes as I was getting ready.

Going to his class: I already know the answer to this question, but I’ll ask it anyway … Should I be happy that Biscuit jumped from my arms in the day care lobby and ran to his classroom and started knocking on the door to get in, or should I be sad that he didn’t even say goodbye?

Smart boy: I said to Biscuit this morning, “You’re a smart little rascal.” He looked at me, smiled and said, “Thank you.” Wow. He’s smart AND polite? How did we do that?!?

Good ear: I think we’re raising a “car guy.” Biscuit can already tell the difference in sound between a big truck, a motorcycle and regular-ol’ cars. When he’s sitting at the table to eat and a big truck goes down the road behind our house, he tell us that it was a truck. And when it’s a motorcycle, he says (or at least attempts to say) motorcycle. So far, he hasn’t been wrong.

Putting it all together: Biscuit and I took a trip to Lowe's this week, and it was fun to hear his take on the store. First, we walked through the rows of refrigerators to get to the back of the store. Biscuit pointed at the fridges and went through his list of fridge-related items: "ju" (juice), "wa-wa" (water), "foot" (fruit).

Then as we were making our way around the store, my cell phone rang. Jeff assigned "Flight of the Valkyries" as the ringtone when he calls me. When the music started, Biscuit said, "Phone, Dada. Phone, Dada." He recognized the ringtone as being Jeff.

We made our way over to the aisle where the paint supplies are. As I was looking at the spray paint cans, Biscuit looked over and saw the fluffy paint roller refills. "Sheep, Mama. Sheep," he said. And by golly, it DID look like a sheep. So I said, "Yeah, sheep," and we made our way to the door.

Bye-bye wa-wa: Remember the bye-bye wa-wa trick we use to get Biscuit out of the bath tub? Well, I guess curiosity got the best of him this week because as the water was making its way down the drain, Biscuit laid on his belly in the tub and put his eye right down at the drain to see where the water went. Sometimes we're in a hurry to get things done, but I hope we'll remember to give Biscuit time to experience things. And I hope we'll give ourselves time to enjoy watching him do it.

I don't want to share!

I bet when you read the title of this post, you thought I was going to write about how Biscuit isn't sharing his toys.

Well, you'd be wrong. This post is about how Mama doesn't always want to share her food.

We got takeout from a nice Asian restaurant tonight, and even though Biscuit had his own dinner, he wanted "bite, bite" of everything I had. I had California wontons, which are wonton wrappers with crab meat, cream cheese and some spices, and there's a spicy-sweet sauce that you pour over them. He loved them. "Bite, Mama. Bite."

Then I had the Classic Honey Chicken with Brown Rice. He had to have some of that, too.

He had a couple of bites of Jeff's shrimp, but he liked MY crab wontons and MY honey chicken better.

I love that he's adventurous and eats more than mac 'n' cheese, but still, why doesn't he want to have my food when I have boring stuff like broccoli? Mama don't WANT to share her food all the time, especially the good stuff!

Beatles fan?

A friend of mine at work is a huge Beatles fan. She's also a huge Biscuit fan. When I tell her something cute that Biscuit did, the first thing she says is always, "And you got this on video, right?"

So, just for her, when we were watching a PBS special about Paul McCartney receiving the Gershwin Award this year, I recorded Biscuit enjoying the music.

With his drumming efforts, my friend wants him to be the next Ringo.

It's funny to watch him watching music on TV. He can't decide whether to dance or stand really still and listen. So he often alternates between the two. Outburst of dancing, followed by intense staring and concentration.

Good taste or creature of habit?

Our Biscuit loves cars. Any kind of cars: real ones, Hot Wheels cars, cars on TV, cars in books. If it has wheels, he loves it.

At a wedding over Easter weekend, he actually walked up to a man in a wheelchair, grabbed one of the wheels and said, "Vroom. Vroom." I just stood there for a minute to see how the man was going to respond. He smiled, and I said, "I'm sorry. To him, anything with wheels is a car." The man smiled and said, "Sounds good to me."

We've bought him some Hot Wheels cars over the past couple of months. I know they say they're for kids 3 and older, but so far, he seems to be fine with them. He doesn't put them in his mouth.

Although, I do worry because there's a family history with Hot Wheels incidents. Jeff was dared by a cousin to stick the wheel from a Hot Wheels car in his nose. And guess what? He did it. Then his mama had to take him to the doctor to get it out. So hopefully, Biscuit won't follow in his father's footsteps as far as Hot Wheels go.

This morning, I was getting ready for work, and Jeff was brushing Biscuit's teeth. As soon as they were finished, Biscuit started asking for his cars (he pronounces it cah, like he's from Bah-ston or something). Jeff set him on the floor and said, "Go! Go get your cars," and Biscuit took off running.

Jeff said, "I'll bet money that he'll come back with a green Mustang and a gold Charger." Sure enough, that's what he brought back. He showed those cars to Jeff, then took off running again. Jeff said, "Now he's going to get the red Mustang and the yellow Charger. Those are the ones I get to play with." And sure enough again, that's exactly what he came back with. Jeff said he grabs those four every time - a Mustang and a Charger for Dada and a Mustang and a Charger for himself.

So I wonder, does he just have good taste in cars? Is he trying to appease both parents (I'm a Ford girl and Jeff is a Mopar guy)? Or if he just a creature of habit and knows what he likes? No telling.

Oh no! The boat!!

We're watching Gregory Peck in "Captain Horatio Hornblower." When the Spanish ship started firing on the English boat, Biscuit started yelling, "OH, NO!! THE BOAT!!!" over and over.

After a few minutes, he started sifting through his books and pulled out a book about a dog pretending to be a pirate on a ship. He handed it to Jeff and said, "Boat."

He's a smart boy.

Weekend funnies

You thought you could only find the funnies in the Sunday paper, but our Biscuit provided the funnies at our house this weekend.

Biscuit was tugging on my arm while I was trying to send an e-mail Saturday. I told him he'd have to wait, but that's not what he wanted to hear. Jeff stole a line from one of Biscuit's books and said loudly, "I WANT SOME PEANUTS!!!"

Jeff was referring to a book that Biscuit has about manners and saying please. The little elephant who yells about the peanuts doesn't get what she wants because she's being rude and impatient.

But just from that one line, Biscuit realized exactly what Jeff was talking about, walked over to the shelf where all his books are and sorted through the 50 or so volumes until he found the exact book Jeff was quoting from.

If anyone had any doubt about whether we read to the boy or not, I think that answers the question.

Biscuit had a bath Saturday night, so when we got ready to go out and run some errands Sunday, I asked Jeff if he'd give Biscuit a quick sponge bath. But while I was in the shower, Biscuit walked over to the tub and yelled for Jeff. "Dada! Dada!"

Jeff came in the bathroom, and Biscuit pointed at the tub and said, "Wawa. Wawa, Dada." He was asking if he could have a bath. Jeff put water in the tub and gave the boy a bath. Of course, Jeff got quite a bath, too. I'm not sure who was wetter - him or Biscuit.

I told Jeff to be sure and remember Biscuit actually asking for a bath. One day soon, he'll be fighting us tooth and nail to try to get out of it.

After we ran our errands, we stopped by and got milkshakes. Mine was peanut butter fudge. As we walked into the house, the phone was ringing, and it was for me. I set my milkshake on the kitchen table and went into our bedroom to talk.

While I was still on the phone, Jeff said, "Kimmy, can you come into the kitchen?" As I walked around the corner, SOMEbody was sitting in the floor just slurping away on my peanut butter fudge milkshake! He had helped himself to a good bit of it already.

I thought the kitchen table was still out of Biscuit's reach. Apparently, I was wrong.

The one good part was that as I looked down at him, he pulled the straw out of his mouth, looked me in the eye and said, "Peas, Mama. Peas?" At least he was polite as he was stealing my treat.

Oh, and needless to say, Biscuit was bouncing off the walls from the sugar and chocolate and didn't go to bed until after 11 p.m.!

Biscuit gives us a lot to laugh at. I hope we can keep him laughing over the years the same way he does for us now.

More horses

Remember how much Biscuit loves horses? Well, here's evidence.

Here, he plays with one of his cousin's stuff animals ... a horse.
























Here, he attempts to RIDE the horse. Seems like the proportions might be a little off here.

Ouchie!

I got a call from day care today. Biscuit tripped over a toy and busted up his mouth. They said he was okay, but I needed to see him myself.

I picked him up, and he was so pitiful. Then I looked at his teachers, and they were pitiful, too. They were really worried about him.

I looked at his mouth, and although his lip is puffy and had been bleeding, there doesn't seem to be any damage bad enough for a doctor.

Meanwhile, of COURSE I had to take a picture of it. My poor little Biscuit!

Biscuit runs for office

This is real. A friend sent it to me from his town newspaper's website.

"It's A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World"

I came home from dinner with the girls this evening to find my boys watching "It's A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World."

Apparently, Biscuit was quite taken with it. He loved all the modes of transportation, and for some reason, he took a liking to Ethel Merman.

It'll be fun to see what kinds of movies, music and reading materials Biscuit likes as he gets older. His Dada loves anything black and white - movies, TV shows and newspapers. My taste runs all over the place, so hopefully, I can expose him to a lot of stuff.

One thing that's funny ... I just checked out when "It's A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World" was made, and it was before I was born. 1963. It beat me by five years.

Yep, it's that old. I guess you could say the movie and I are both classics!

All we needed was apple pie

We decided to celebrate the Fourth of July by taking part in some American traditions: We went to a baseball game where we ate hot dogs and watched fireworks. All we needed to make it complete was some apple pie (maybe we'll just pretend the funnel cake we ate had apples on it).

When I was picking out Biscuit's clothes for the evening, I asked Jeff if Biscuit should be patriotic or show some team spirit toward the Greensboro Grasshoppers. We opted for team spirit. And except for the pacifier that he's suddenly latched back on to, I'd say he's looking pretty cute.

Biscuit was so good during the whole game. He watched all the people around us and especially loved the mascot.

We had really good seats. A couple of our friends have season tickets, and they weren't going to use them. We were right behind home plate.

The guy who owns the Hoppers has two black labs that he brings to the games. One of the dogs, named Babe Ruth, runs out and fetches the bats after the Hoppers players hit.

The other dog, Yogi Berra, is a little younger and not quite as trained as Babe Ruth. He was supposed to fetch a ball as part of a game between innings, but he wasn't interested at all. They finally just had to pick a winner.

But it didn't matter whether the dogs got it right or not, our Biscuit baby loves him some dogs. He would stand up on our laps and yell, "DOG! DOG! DOG! WOOF! WOOF! WOOF!"

The only problem we had during the game was that as Biscuit was sitting in our laps, his feet were at the perfect height to put his feet on the guys in front of us. That was bad enough, but then we realized that the guys in front of us were pitchers for the opposing team. So not only were they periodically getting poked with little toes, but it was by a kid wearing the other team's logo on his shirt.

I was a little nervous about how Biscuit would respond to the fireworks, so right before they started, I told him there were going to be loud booms. He said, "Boom, mama." And I said, "Yes. Boom."

I cupped my hands over his ears just in case it was too loud for him, but as soon as they started lighting up the sky, Biscuit starting doing the Spoon Dance. He was shimmying back and forth just like he does when he tastes something he likes. A couple of times, he pulled my hands away from his ears, then the fireworks would make a loud boom, and he'd put my hands back.

It was going on 11 p.m. by the time we got to the car, but Biscuit was still awake. He's a nosy little thing and wanted to make sure he didn't miss anything. By the time we got home, he was fast asleep. He tried to open his eyes while I changed him into his pajamas, but his eyes just kept fluttering shut. And as soon as he hit the sheets, he was out.

Happy July 4th!

Not only is today Grandma Mills' birthday, it's our country's birthday, too.

And to borrow from the Declaration of Independence, Biscuit is definitely working on "the pursuit of happiness" as he plays in the kiddie pool at a friend's cookout.

Proof of the Potty Mouth

Last week it was "whore" instead of "horse." This week, it's "Hey, ho" instead of "hello."

Told ya. My boy has a potty mouth. Luckily, for right now, it's completely unintentional.




Here are some outtakes. They never do or say what you want them to when you finally have the video camera pointed at them! (Sorry for the too-quick zooming. I seemed to have an itchy trigger finger with the video camera this time.)

New toys

I love a good deal, and we got one tonight.

As you know, our Biscuit has been whore obsessed ... I mean, horse obsessed. So I've been on the hunt for a toddler-size rocking horse. I was also hoping to find one that wasn't as big as our house. Lord knows the child has enough toys already!

I looked at new horses. They run about $70. But I was really excited when I went to Craigslist and found exactly what I was looking for being sold by someone who lives in one of my friend's neighborhoods for $20.

When we got to their house, Biscuit went straight for the horse. He tried to get on but it had the safety seat on it. It's made for 1-year-olds up to 3-year-olds. But we could tell that he loved it even without being able to get on it.

Jeff handed over the $20 and started walking to the car with the horse. And Biscuit immediately jumped on the seat of a tricycle that was sitting right next to where the horse was. The woman said, "That's for sale, too, if you're interested." She said she'd take $10 for it. The trike looked brand new. She bought it for her daughter, but the little girl wasn't interested. The good thing is that I had checked the price of those trikes, too, and they run about $30.

So we got $100 worth of toys for $30. I like good deals.

Here are pictures of what we got. (And of course, I'll post pictures or videos of him using them as soon as I can.)

The horse has a rocker base, so Biscuit can bounce on it or rock on it. He also has crinkly ears that Biscuit likes to squeeze.






















The tricycle has a push handle so we can help him learn to ride it. Until then, the handle folds under to make a rocker.

Three little words

I have dinner with some girlfriends on Tuesday night. Sometimes Biscuit goes with me, and sometimes I get to leave him with Jeff.

Last night, the boys stayed home while I went out.

I had some errands to run before dinner, so I left work and ran out and about to get stuff done. As I was leaving a shopping area and heading to the restaurant to meet my friends, I called home to see how they were doing.

Jeff had warmed up some leftovers for their dinner, and Biscuit was chowing down on some baked sweet potato.

I asked Jeff if Biscuit had a good day, and he said he seemed to be in a good mood, but every once in a while, he would wander from room to room saying, “Mama?” like he was trying to find me.

Jeff handed the phone to Biscuit, and we had a chat. I asked him if he had a good day, to which he replied, “Day.” Then I asked, “What are you eating?” to which he replied, “Eat, eat.” Then I asked, “Are you having sweet potato?” to which he replied, “Tato.” He’s been quite the little parrot lately. Jeff actually looked at him this morning and said, “Biscuit want a cracker?”

I was getting close to the restaurant, so I told Biscuit I had to go eat my own dinner. I said, “I love you, baby.” And he said, “Love you, Mama.”

That’s the first time he ever said that. Jeezy Pete! I almost lost it.

Isn’t it amazing the emotions that can surface from three little words?

Seet-sah!

I didn’t feel like cooking dinner the other night, so I called Jeff and asked him if he would pick up a pizza on the way home. Our Biscuit baby loves pizza. And when I say he loves pizza, I mean he LOVES!!! pizza.

We had takeout pizza a couple of Saturdays ago, and Biscuit ate two slices. I couldn’t believe it. TWO SLICES. That’s how much pizza I usually eat. We had some leftovers, so he also had pizza that Sunday for lunch. He only had one slice then, but that was only because I had some other stuff to go along with the pizza.

Sunday dinnertime rolled around, and I had cooked a chicken casserole and made some mixed veggies. I put Biscuit in his high chair, and he yelled out, “SEET-SAH!” And I said, “No, we have chicken casserole and mixed veggies.”

Again, he yelled, “SEET-SAH!” And again, I said, “No. Chicken casserole and mixed veggies.” I set his plate on his high chair tray, but there was nothing doing. He wouldn’t eat a bite of it. He cried and cried and cried with the most pitiful pouting face you’ve ever seen. I finally got him to eat a PB&J sandwich, but it was after much drama.

So I knew when I asked Jeff to bring that pizza home the other night that Biscuit was going to be a very happy little boy. Little did I know.

Biscuit and I were reading a book on the couch, and we heard the front door opening. I said, “I wonder who that could be?” And Biscuit said, “Dada!”

He ran to the door to greet his Dada. Jeff had barely stepped through the door when Biscuit saw the pizza box in his hand.

“SEET-SAH!!! SEET-SAH!!!” Biscuit screamed. Then he shot like a bullet down the hall and into the kitchen. When I caught up with him, he was banging on the side of his high chair saying, “Up, Mama. Up. Seet-sah.”

Needless to say, by the time I got his pizza cut up into bite-size pieces, Biscuit was about ready to eat his high chair tray. He ate 1 1/2 slices and then asked for fruit (pronounced fut).

He was in the best mood for the rest of the night. I guess we know what to do next time he’s in a bad mood … just get him some seet-sah.

Ready. Set. Go!

You never know what words, phrases or actions kids are going to latch on to. Like this one that has been going on at our house.

For the past couple of days, Biscuit has been standing really still, then saying, “Set. Go!” and taking off running. He’s not racing with anybody. He’s standing by himself when he does it. It’s really funny to watch him do it.

So I asked Jeff, “Have you been having races or something with Biscuit? He’s been doing the ready-set-go thing.” He said no.

Then I asked the day care teachers if they had been talking about it or maybe it was in a book they had read. They said no.

Then I traced it back. Two of my friends babysat Biscuit on Sunday afternoon so Jeff and I could go to lunch and a movie.

I had dinner with one of the friends last night, and I asked her if she knew anything about it. I immediately knew the answer because she had a big smile on her face when she said, “Why do you ask?”

I finally got it out of her that while we were gone Sunday, they had races in Biscuit’s Cozy Coupe car, and sure enough, they started each race with “Ready. Set. Go!”

I made sure both of my baby-sitting friends knew that I thought it was funny, and that I was just glad they had fun with Biscuit.

But then I had second thoughts about telling them that he was repeating something they had said. Now they know how susceptible he is. And now they know they can teach him to do and say whatever they want. I wonder what they'll teach him next time they babysit? Now I'm REALLY scared!

Potty mouth?

I've heard horror stories about toddlers learning inappropriate words and using them at all the wrong times.

One of my favorite stories was from a pediatric doctor I worked with when I was a phlebotomist. The mother of one of his young patients shared a story about her little girl going down to the front of their church for the children's sermon. The minister always commented on how nice the kids looked, so when he saw this little girl smoothing out the full skirt of her dress, he said, "That sure is a pretty dress you're wearing this morning." To which the little girl replied, "Yeah, it's pretty, but it's a bitch to iron!"

The mother said her face turned several shades of red as all the parents in the auditorium turned to see her reaction.

So when my little Biscuit called me "whore" Saturday morning, then pointed at my bra Sunday as I was changing my shirt and said "boob," I was more than a little concerned.

Don't worry. He hasn't gotten a potty mouth yet.

Saturday morning, I was sitting on the couch, and Biscuit climbed up to sit with me. He was sitting on my leg. He looked me right in the eye and said, "Whore." I raised an eyebrow and said, "What did you say?" And he repeated it ... several times. So I asked him again to repeat himself. And he said the same thing over and over.

Finally, I said, "I'm not sure what you're saying, Biscuit." Then, he started bouncing up and down on my leg and said, "Hore!"

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!" I realized. "You want my leg to be a horse. I get it."

Then Sunday, as I was changing my shirt, he pointed at my bra and said, "Boo, Mama. Boo." Again, I gave him a perplexed look and tried to figure out what he was saying.

I glanced down and realized that he was saying "Blue." My bra was blue, and they've started with colors at day care.

I know the day will come when he blurts out something he isn't supposed to say, and I know it's going to be at the most inopportune time, but I just wasn't ready for it to happen yet!

It's a hat!

I got a pretty handmade basket as a birthday present a few years ago from some friends. They got it at Ten Thousand Villages, a store where they send some of the money back to the person or people who created it.

Silly me, I've been using it as a decoration in my living room. But apparently, the lid of it functions quite nicely as a hat.

See?

Shut up and bag!

When I roll my buggy full of stuff up to your cash register, don't assume that because I have a child in the front that he is the one who's been riding around the store screaming. And even if you do assume that, do not say to me, "This must be the little man who's been making all the noise around the store."

I will not be amused.

You will be lucky that I won't say anything to you about it. But I don't want to set a bad example by putting you in your place in front of my child, who is sitting quietly in his seat.

And to set the record straight, he was not the kid making the noise. He had one whining fit and started saying "Eat, eat" because it was his dinner time. And that was it.

So there!

Belated Father's Day

Jeff has had a terrible virus for a week. It started as a cough/cold-type thing and went into a belly illness. So Sunday, he really didn't feel like celebrating Father's Day. Not even the meal I had planned that would end with homemade chocolate peanut butter ice cream.

You KNOW he was sick if he passed on that!

So we picked Biscuit up at day care this evening and went out for a Father's Day meal. A steakhouse at Jeff's choosing.

Biscuit is getting the hang of the coloring thing, so the server brought him crayons and a kid's menu to draw on. We ordered our food, and he colored patiently until the food came. I'd like to officially thank the person who came up with the idea for crayons and paper as a way to pass the time between ordering and eating.

The only problem is that he thinks of the crayons as an appetizer, so we constantly have to pull them away from his mouth.

Jeff and I had salads and steaks. He had fries, and I had a sweet potato. I ordered a chicken kids meal for Biscuit. He had chicken, baked sweet potato and bread. Then he wanted to try one of Dada's fries. Then he asked for another one. Then he wanted the pineapple that came on my teriyaki-marinated steak. Then he wanted a bite of my sweet potato, even though it was exactly like his own. Then he wanted a bite of my roll. Then he asked for another one of Jeff's fries. Apparently, everything is better when it's on somebody else's plate.

It amazes me that the kid can eat and eat and eat at some meals, then at other meals, he'll have two bites and he's done.

I had to laugh because while Jeff and Biscuit were playing on the couch after we got home, Jeff tapped on Biscuit's belly, and it sounded just like a ripe watermelon! I think Biscuit enjoyed the Father's Day meal as much as Jeff did.

Win, Lose or Straw

BISCUIT CAN USE A STRAW!!!! Do you understand what this means?

Sing it with me ...
"No more sticky sippy cups in my pocketbook ...
No more sticky sippy cups in my pocketbook ..."

Hauling the clean sippy cups around was not a big deal, but after they were used? ICK!!! And I had to put them right back in my pocketbook.

This might sound like a small victory to you, but let me assure you, this is HUGE for me.

Yay, Biscuit!

Protecting Biscuit

In Biscuit's life so far, I have been in charge. Not in a dictator way, but in that I choose his meals, pick out his clothes and make all the other daily decisions that keep him safe and healthy.

Last night, he had a bad dream. He started tossing and turning and then shouted out, "Nooooooo!"

It was scary. In that moment, I couldn't protect him. I couldn't fix the thing that was upsetting him.

And I realized that it was a small taste of days to come.

I want my Biscuit to be independent. I want him to make decisions small and large - from "I'd like to have oatmeal for breakfast" to "I think I've decided what my career will be."

But wow ... it's going to be hard to watch it happen. Any one of those decisions could get him hurt in some way. Any one of those decisions could leave him disappointed or sad or upset and that already breaks my heart.

There's a great term for those mothers who constantly hover over their kids ... helicopter moms. I know some of those moms. I don't want to be one of those moms. I think they do more harm than good because instead of guiding their kids, they smother them. But I tell you what, I understand the desire to do it. I can see how it happens. And I'm already fighting the urge to be that way with my own son.

I've worked hard to surround Biscuit with all the family and friends I can. I want him to know that whatever he does and wherever he goes and whatever he decides, he has a large group of people supporting him and loving him, no matter what. People who will be there when he needs them, even if he makes a decision they don't agree with.

And as I think about all the people in Biscuit's life so far, I think he has a pretty good start.

TV time

I was gone most of Sunday, so that left Biscuit and Jeff on their own. And of course, that's where it started.

Monday morning, Jeff put Biscuit up on our bed with me. Biscuit looked at me and said, "Mama, WOW ... pice. WOW ... pice."

I couldn't figure out what he was saying, so I kept asking him to repeat it. Finally, I got it.

"Jeff, how much TV did y'all watch yesterday while I was gone?" I asked.

"We watched a couple of baseball games. Why?" Jeff said.

"Was Staples one of the sponsors?" I asked.

"Yeah. They kept showing that annoying commercial where they say, 'WOW! That's a low price. WOW! That's a low ... uh-oh."

It was then that Jeff realized what was going on. Our Biscuit had been corrupted. One of our most hated commercials had made its way into our home and into our child.

Okay, it wasn't that dramatic.

Anyway, the first video is Biscuit watching the commercial on my laptop. The second one is a primed example of how kids will never do their cute trick while the video camera is in your hand! I was trying to video him saying the line, and he decided to spice it up by adding "baby" at the end. Then the last video is an outtake that was too cute not to post.

Bye-Bye Wa-Wa

Biscuit loves to take baths.

He likes to splash in the water, and he has a few toys he plays with, mainly a couple of slotted cups that lets the water sprinkle through.

Biscuit is very patient as I soap him up and wash him down, even his ears. He names body parts as we wash and willingly lies back in the tub to rinse the soap out of his hair.

Basically, the only bath-time problem I have is getting him out of the tub at the end. He doesn't like it when it's time to dry off and get dressed.

I've made several efforts to get him out of the tub, including having Jeff meet him at the edge of the tub with a hooded towel. "Look, Dada is here to get you." But no dice.

I've tried bribing him by saying, "Let's go put your shirt on. Your shirt has a ball (or dog or car or whatever) on it." No luck with that, either.

But a couple of days ago, I accidentally kicked the stopper out and the water started draining out of the tub. I had read early on that you shouldn't drain the water while the kid is in the tub because it often freaks them out. But I figured since it was already done, I'd just see what happened.

Biscuit looked at the drain then looked at me as if to ask what was going on. I wasn't sure what to do, so I started waving at the drain and saying, "Bye-bye water. We'll see you next time."

And whaddya know? The boy starts saying, "Bye-bye wa-wa. Next time," while he waved at the drain.

And of course, once the water has drained out, there's nothing else to play in. So he stands up and is ready to get out and get dressed.

I think the saying "Necessity is the mother of invention" includes the word "mother" for a reason. Whatever the situation, the Mamas figure it out!

You're too quiet

Every morning this week seems to have had a different theme for Biscuit. It's almost like he woke up with something on his mind.

Tuesday morning, it was frogs. "Fog, Mama. Wibit. Fog." Over and over and over again. Frogs go ribbit, Mama.

Wednesday morning, he was obsessed with the shirt he was wearing that day. It was a gray T-shirt with a basketball on it. "Ball. Shirt. Shirt. Mama. Ball. Ball. Shirt. Mama."

Thursday morning, he woke up early, so I put him in bed with Jeff and me. Then he had to name off everybody's facial features. "No, Mama. No." He doesn't put the S at the end of nose yet. "Eye. Eye. Eye. Mama." And on he went through nose, eyes, ears, mouth, hair, hands and teeth. He named them on me. He named them on his Dada. Then he named them on himself.

But Friday morning, Biscuit was eerily quiet. He was just standing in his crib waiting for me to pick him up. No crying. No talking. No nothing. It was creepy. I started feeling his face and forehead to see if he had a fever.

"Good morning, baby," I said to him.

But he just whispered back, "Hey, Mama."

My boy loves to eat, especially in the morning. If you even say the word "eat," you better have something ready to go in his mouth.

So I said, "Are you ready to eat?"

"E," he said in this quiet little voice.

I have a standing dinner date with some girlfriends on Tuesdays, and this past Tuesday, one of my friends witnesses Biscuit pitching a little fit. I forget what it was about, but less than three minutes after the fit, Biscuit was laughing and talking like nothing ever happened. She was amazed at how quickly his mood shifted. And I just said to her, "Yep, such is the life and temperament of a 1 1/2-year-old.

But even though I had told my friend that just Tuesday, this sudden change in Biscuit's demeanor was just freaking me out. Biscuit was fine. He was just having a quiet morning. But of course, it's my job as the Mama to worry that something is horribly amiss!

Jeff got him ready for day care, and I dropped him off. When I picked him up that afternoon, he was back to his talkative self.

It's just hard to imagine that the baby Jeff and I made has turned into this little person who has his own moods and emotions.

The Sesame Street War

"Melmo."

"Zoe."

"MELMO!"

"ZOE!"

"MELMOOOOO!"

"ZOEEEEEEEE!"

Such went the argument a few days ago between my grown, adult friend and my 1 1/2-year-old son.

Some restaurants bring out crayons and a paper placemat for kids to draw on while waiting for the food to arrive. And Biscuit is starting to understand that crayons are cooler if you put them on paper instead of putting them in his mouth. So I thought it would be a good idea to get a couple of coloring books and some crayons to take with us to restaurants.

So my grown, adult friend, Biscuit and I went to The Dollar Store before dinner the other evening. I picked up a couple of Winnie the Pooh coloring books, but my grown, adult friend is a huge fan of Sesame Street characters and insisted we buy their book. We grabbed some cheap-o crayons, and we were ready to go.

When we got to the restaurant, I pulled out the Sesame Street book and the crayons. Biscuit flipped through the coloring book and found a page he wanted to color. He pointed at the character on that page, and that's when the arguing started.

Biscuit pointed to Zoe, who is an orange girl character, and said, "Melmo." I didn't know Biscuit knew any of the Sesame Street characters' names, but then I remembered that he has a counting book, a book about shapes and one about colors that all feature Sesame Street characters.

My grown, adult friend HATES Elmo. She says he's stolen the thunder from all the other characters. So she was quite dismayed when Biscuit mistook Zoe for Elmo.

I tried to argue my son's case. "You realize you're arguing with a 1 1/2-year-old, right?" I asked. "Plus, it's a coloring book," I explained to her. "These are just black-line drawings. If she was colored orange, he wouldn't have called her Melmo."

But my grown, adult friend wasn't buying it. "He has to learn!" she said. "We have to teach him!"

"I'll get right on it," I told her.

Conquering the animal kingdom

Biscuit now has several animal sounds down.

He knows cow (mooooooo), pig (grunt, grunt), duck (cack), chicken (bock), dog (whoo, whoo), cat (mouw), bird (teet, teet), frog (wibit, wibit) and bear (rarrrr). And this past weekend, his cousin added goat to his repertoire.

She was so excited that she taught him something. She came running up to me, carrying Biscuit in her arms and said, "Aunt Kim, check this out. Biscuit, what does a goat say?"

Biscuit looked up and said, "Mmmmmeeehhhhh" and sounded just like a baby goat.

School pictures

These are Biscuit's school pictures for Spring 2010.

Mama-Son Dates

When Jeff works in the evenings, I've been trying to plan dates for Biscuit and me. Nothing fancy, just something to break up our routine.

One evening last week, I picked him up at day care, and we went to a nice playground at a nearby park. They had bucket swings for toddlers and a couple of small slides. The one drawback was that it had rained some that afternoon, so Biscuit's shoes picked up some mud and wet mulch. Plus, the swings and slides were a little wet.

Biscuit had on play clothes, so when I saw this pretty little girl in a fancy little outfit heading for the slides, I sent Biscuit down a couple of times to dry off the slide with his rear end. I figured I'd rather see a little dirt on his butt rather than on that little girl's pretty outfit.

The one weird thing at the park was that I don't really know the rules. I grew up in a small community where any available adult helped us or called us down or patched up our skinned knees. But how does that work in a city where you don't know the other kids or parents?

One little girl was sitting on a swing yelling for her daddy to come push her. She was less than 10 feet away from me, but I didn't dare go over to push her. I didn't know how her parents would respond. I really hate that it's like that. I love kids and wanted to talk to and play with all of them.

Of course, when I thought about it the other way, I don't think I would appreciate some stranger approaching or talking to Biscuit when I wasn't around.

On another date, Biscuit and I went by and got some takeout dinner then went to a pretty garden to eat at a picnic table. He wasn't tall enough to sit on the bench, so I set him on top of the table. He thought that was pretty cool.

After we ate, I thought he might enjoy walking around for a while. Everything was fine. He was pointing and saying, "flowers," "trees," "dogs," "duck," "baby" and "shoes" for everyone who passed.

But then, he saw a statue. A bronze statue of two people sitting on a fence. To say he didn't like the statue would be quite an understatement. He scotched his feet and wouldn't move another inch once he saw them. I tried to explain that they weren't real people, but he was having none of that. I finally had to pick him up and backtrack in the other direction to get around the statue. Unfortunately, there are several statues around the garden, so we had to avoid several areas.

After we had walked for a while, we found a bench along one of the sidewalks and sat down to people watch. And dog watch. And flower watch. And tree watch. And duck watch. And baby watch. And shoe watch. You get the idea.

Biscuit said "shoe" twice for each person who walked by. This was accompanied by him pointing at their feet. Then a lady came by and threw him off completely. She had taken her shoes off and was carrying them in her hand as she walked.

Biscuit looked at her feet, then looked at her hand, then looked at me. I think he was confused about why she would be carrying her shoes instead of wearing them. He pointed at her hand and said, "Shoes." Then he pointed at her feet and said, "Toes." Then he looked at me. Then he looked at the lady and repeated his pointing and saying "shoes" and "toes."

She just laughed and kept walking, but poor Biscuit just kept talking about it. I tried to explain to him that it was okay if she carried her shoes instead of wearing them. Luckily, a man with a dog came by and all shoes and toes were forgotten.

I've enjoyed this time with my boy. I hope we get to go on more dates soon.

Learning how it works

We read book after book after book to Biscuit. Even when we really, really, REALLY don't want to read anymore, we do. We figure that as long as he's interested in reading, we'll do everything we can to encourage him.

But we're also trying to teach Biscuit to have a little patience, something his mother sorely lacks from time to time. When we are busy or eating or can't read him a book for some reason, we try to explain to him that we can't read right this second, but as soon as we're finished with what we're doing, we'll read to him again.

I probably don't need to say that no matter what we're doing, he doesn't like to hear the word "no."

I was eating breakfast the other morning when Biscuit brought in a book for me to read to him. He held the book up and said, "Read book, Mama." I told him that I was eating breakfast and would read to him as soon as I was finished.

Apparently, he didn't like that answer. He threw himself and the book in the floor and cried and cried and cried. When I finished my cereal, he was still lying in the floor. So I stepped over him and went to the living room.

A few minutes later, Biscuit came into the living room and picked up another book. He handed me the book and said, "Read book, Mama." Then he tilted his head to the side and said, "Peas?" (His way of saying please)

I guess Biscuit is learning how the "you can catch more flies with honey" thing works.

Welcome to the jungle

Biscuit's cousins from Apex gave him a really cool puzzle.

The removable pieces are animals. Each one has a little handle so they're easy for Biscuit to lift them out. And they have sensors under the pieces, so when he puts the pieces back in their holes, you hear the noise the animals make.

The funny thing about this puzzle is that the sensors are solar, so if Biscuit leaves the pieces out, every time the sun goes behind a cloud or we turn off a light in the living room, wild animals start yipping, growling, howling, chirping and whatever other noises they make in our living room.

The first time scared us to death, but now that we're used to it, we just say goodnight to the living room jungle before we head off to bed.