Visit to the doctor

Biscuit and I were home with pink eye today. I hated staying home from work over something so simple, but pink eye is very contagious, so Biscuit couldn't be at day care. Plus, it made my sight so blurry that it would've been hard to stare at a computer screen all day.

We've had bouts of pink eye before, so last night, when I figured out what was going on, I went to the medicine cabinet for the drops we used last time. It was just my luck that the expiration date on the drops was June 2011. I know they say some medications last past their expiration dates, but I didn't want to take any chances with something that was going in our eyes.

I called Biscuit's doctor and made an appointment, then I broke the news to Biscuit.

He was so excited. Yep. Excited.

"We're going to the doctor, Mom? COOL!!!" Biscuit said.

Biscuit's doctor is in a big office building, and as I pulled into the parking lot, he looked around and said, "Yep. This is the doctor's office."

We rode the elevator, which apparently was very cool. And as we walked into the office, Biscuit immediately walked over to a mom and two kids and said, "I'm Griffin. That chair is red. Red is my favorite color."

The little girl was talking to her mom and didn't really acknowledge Biscuit. The boy was using one hand to slide beads around on one of those twisty wire things with the wooden base. When Biscuit walked up, the boy slid the toy toward the middle of the table like he was offering Biscuit a chance to play. I thought that was really sweet, but when I got to a position to see the kid's face, I realized he had the index finger on his free hand shoved middle-knuckle deep up his nose.

Seeing that, I sort of encouraged Biscuit to come over and read one of the books I had stashed in my pocketbook. We only read about two pages when the nurse called his name. We went back and Biscuit stepped on the scale. 29 1/2 pounds. He's still a little guy.

As a matter of fact, when I told my brother, he said, "Dang. A sack of taters weighs more than Biscuit does."

The doctor came in and spoke to Biscuit and me. He told Biscuit he was going to get his light set up and then he was going to check him out.

As the doctor started setting up, Biscuit reached down and pulled his pant leg up above his knee. I couldn't figure out what he was doing at first, but then I realized why HE thought we were at the doctor.

Labor Day weekend, Biscuit and I were in Georgia visiting family, and Biscuit tripped and went skidding across a concrete driveway. He completely removed the top layer of skin from his knee, and it bled and bled and bled. He was really tough about the whole thing and never actually cried. The sore healed, but he has about a quarter-sized slightly pink circle still on his knee.

Ever since he fell, Biscuit has been asking if we could have the doctor look at his knee. When I told him Jeff was going to the doctor last week (he had bronchitis), Biscuit asked if he could go with him because his knee was still hurting. I know his knee is fine because the only time he ever mentions it is when he sees it.

But as we were sitting in the doctor's office, it occurred to me that even though Biscuit's right eye was swollen almost completely shut, he honestly thought we were there to have his knee checked out.

The doctor rolled his stool over to the exam table, and Biscuit was looking down at his knee. I could tell that the doctor hadn't even noticed Biscuit's pants leg being pulled up, so I said, "Griffin fell a couple of months ago and has been asking ever since then if the doctor can take a look at his knee."

The doctor was so nice. He shined the light on the pink spot on Biscuit's knee and said, "I think you boo-boo looks really good. I think Mom should give it a couple of kisses, and it'll be okay. Now I need to look in your ears and nose and eyes, okay?"

The doctor emailed a prescription to the drugstore we use (ain't technology grand?!?), and Biscuit got two cool stickers. I was so glad the doctor humored us and looked at Biscuit's knee. I was also secretly glad I wouldn't hear anymore about how the boo-boo on his knee still hurt and how he needed to go to the doctor to get it fixed.

We gathered our stuff and headed out of the office. And I'm still surprised at what Biscuit said as we were walking down the hallway.

Biscuit was holding my hand, and he looked up at me with a concerned look and said, "Mom, I don't think my knee is really better."

Returning to the scene of the crime

Remember the meltdown to end all meltdowns at the diner?

We've returned a few times to the scene of the crime without much drama. But if I'm honest, I have to say that every time we've returned, I get a few butterflies in my stomach, wondering if there will be a repeat performance.

Last night, as we were finishing up our errands, Biscuit asked if we could have pancakes for dinner. And guess where he wanted them from. I looked at Jeff, and he said, "Sounds good to me."

We went to the diner and had a really nice dinner. The food was good. The boy was in a great mood. And it was just an overall enjoyable experience.

So imagine my surprise when the manager came over and started chatting. He asked Biscuit if his pancakes were good, how old he is and about the cars we had drawn on his paper placemat.

Then the manager said, "Wow. You are such a mature little boy. Good manners and so independent. I'll tell you what. If you finish your dinner, and Mom and Dad say it's okay, you can have a scoop of chocolate ice cream ... on me."

Now, Biscuit had just finished pancakes with syrup. The last thing I wanted him to have was more sugar, not to mention the chocolate. But it was such a nice gesture on the manager's part, I figured, what the heck.

Biscuit ate his pancakes so fast, I think he swallowed most of them whole. And with his mouth still crammed full of his last bite of pancakes, Biscuit said, "I can have my chocolate ice cream now?"

When the server came by to refill Jeff's coffee, I said to Biscuit, "Can you tell her what you want?"

He told her he wanted his chocolate ice cream, and he said please, and she brought him a dish that was mounding over with chocolate ice cream.

I helped him eat about a third of what was in the bowl, and he said, "I'm full, Mom. I'm done."

I said, "You're full? You don't want more ice cream?"

Griffin raised up his shirt and starting poking his belly button. "No more food," Biscuit said. "My hole is all full."

I couldn't help but laugh as we were leaving. All I could think was that this manager had no idea that only a couple of months ago, he probably would've been praying for us to hurry up and get out of his restaurant. But last night, he was rewarding our little man with ice cream.

Ah, the moods of a toddler.

It's a deal

I was out and about a good part of today, and I wrongly assumed Jeff had already given Biscuit a bath. 

Jeff just looked at the clock and realized it was an hour later than he thought it was. He went to tell Biscuit, who was watching TV in our room, that they were going to take a quick shower, then Biscuit was going to bed.

"Biscuit, time slipped up on me, and we have to take a shower," Jeff said.

"Um, let's wait 'til this show is over and THEN take a shower," Biscuit said.

"It's a deal," Jeff said.

Let's see if Biscuit, who is already past his bedtime, is a good sport about honoring their deal.

My guess is no!

-----------------------------------------------

Odd twist to the pre-shower events.

Biscuit just came running, buck naked, into the living room and in a tiny little Edward G. Robinson voice said, "Yeah, see?" Then he ran back to our bedroom. Then Jeff did the same impersonation.

Sometimes, with boys and men, it's just best not to ask!

Of mimics and memories

Monkey see, monkey do and an elephant never forgets are the perfect cliches for Biscuit right now. He's been doing a lot of copycat behavior recently, and Jeff and I have been amazed lately at his memory.

Cell phone: I carry my cellphone in my front pants pocket. I don't really like having it with me all the time, but I do it in case day care needs to get in touch with me during the day. When Biscuit and I get ready to leave in the morning, I stop at the desk by the front door and stick my phone in my pocket. I guess Biscuit pays more attention to my routine than I realized because when we got to the pumpkin patch last Saturday, Biscuit had his cell phone in his front pocket. The funny thing is that it's a real cell phone. It belonged to Jeff's Dad (apparently the phone went swimming on a fishing trip), and he gave it to Biscuit to play with. It's pretty funny to see a toddler walking around talking on a real phone.

DVD player: Jeff and Biscuit were watching "Adam-12" one night in the living room. When the episode ended, Jeff hit the stop button on the remote. Biscuit got up, walked over to the DVD player, hit eject, took out the DVD and hit the off button. Did I mention that Biscuit has never been allowed to touch the DVD player? Apparently, he's seen us work the player enough so he knew exactly what to do.

Dishwasher: We had a similar experience with the dishwasher. I put the soap in and closed the door, and Bisuit said, "I want to push the button." Before I could point to the "Normal" button, he had already pushed it. There are 8 buttons on the front of that dishwasher, and he knew exactly which one would start it up.

Red head: Last weekend, I was coloring my hair (Shhhh. Don't tell. I have a wee bit of gray I have to cover up.), and Biscuit walked up and asked what was on my head. "I'm fixing my hair," I said to him. "Is your hair red yet, Mom?" Biscuit asked. I only color my hair once every two months or so, and I never mentioned to Jeff or Biscuit that I was going to color my hair that day. I have no idea why or how he remembered that the stuff on my head was what makes my hair red.

George: Dr Pepper recently ran a tuition contest, and they put the winner, whose name is George, on the side of the cans. I was drinking a Dr Pepper one afternoon, and Biscuit asked me who was on the can. I told him it was a guy named George. Two weeks later ... TWO WEEKS ... I was sitting in the living room holding a can of Dr Pepper. Biscuit walked up to me and said, "Is that George on that can, Mom?" I told him it was and asked him how in the world he remembered that. Biscuit looked at me and said, "Um, because his name is George." Okay then.

Books: Biscuit can recite whole passages of books. He loves stories. And he often takes parts of several stories and puts them together. Sometimes they make sense, sometimes they don't. But either way, it's pretty impressive how much he can glean from hearing a story only one or two times. Sometimes he'll say to Jeff and me, "Hey guys, listen to a story ..." then he'll open his hands like he's opening a book and say "Once upon a time ..." Then he'll proceed to tell us bits and pieces of things he's heard recently.

Sometimes when Biscuit says or does things, Jeff and I look at each other with amazement. Usually it's because we have absolutely no idea where Biscuit heard or saw whatever it is that he's repeating. I hope Biscuit's inquisitive nature continues throughout his life and that his memories serve him well.

Closing the deal

We have been incredibly lucky with the massive amounts of gifts and hand-me-downs we've received since Biscuit was born. So I've tried to give as much as we've gotten.

The problem now is that the three little boys who were the main recipients of our hand-me-down clothes have outgrown Biscuit. One of the boys is about 4 months younger than Biscuit, and the other two are a year younger. But Biscuit is still small for his age and has grown pretty slowly. As a matter of fact, he'll be 3 next month, and he has just now moved into 2T clothes.

Anyway, we got a flyer week before last on our mailbox that said there was a neighborhood yard sale planned for this morning. The home owners' association was going to advertise the event, and everybody in the neighborhood was welcome to set up sales in their yards.

Since we recently found out we aren't going to have any more children, I decided that I needed to purge our house of baby stuff. Yard sale, here we come!

Last weekend, I sorted all the clothes by size and bagged up some items, like 6 pairs of socks in a bag or 4 bibs or 3 burp cloths. I didn't want to deal with a bunch of 25-cent or 50-cent items. I marked the clothes at $1 for each item, then individually priced the toys and some other things.

I got up at 6 a.m. and started setting up. I had a table for each size of clothes (0-3 months, 6 months, 9 months, 12 months and 18 months), a table for toys and books, a table for socks, shoes and other stuff and a hanging rack for coats and multiple-piece outfits. I didn't know if I was being too orderly by separating the sizes like that, but according to three different ladies, they bought more stuff at my sale because they didn't have to sort through, looking for the sizes they needed.

I got my first customer at 7:15 a.m. People came and went until about 11:30. I waited it out until noon and called it quits. I made more money than I thought I would make, and when I packed up the leftovers, I brought in less than half of what I had put out. I call that a success.

The first part of the morning, I was on my own. But Jeff had to leave for work about 10:30 a.m., so about 10, he said he needed to get ready to go, and he brought Biscuit out to me. I was a little worried about keeping up with Biscuit and customers, but it turns out, I should've had him out there the whole time. My little man is quite the salesman.

He spoke to everyone who came up and told people that the clothes and stuff at our sale was stuff from when he was "a wittle, bitty baby."

Biscuit asked me about the books and toys on the one table, and I said, "Those are things for little boys, and you're a big boy now. We'll give those books and toys to people, and they'll give us money for them."

You know how they say be careful what you say because you'll hear it come back to you? Well, it's true.

One lady walked up and asked how much the books were. I told her, and Biscuit walked over and said, "You can have those books for some money." That lady bought 6 books!

He said to one lady, "You have a wittle baby. This stuff is for wittle babies." She bought a sackful of clothes.

I think we might have found our boy's calling!

Cowboy Biscuit

When I was a kid, I remember all the little boys having cowboy boots. Most of them were black with white, swirly stitching. So when Biscuit got on his horse and cowboy kick, I thought it might be fun to get him some boots.

It sounds like a simple-enough idea, but it was way harder than I thought it would be. Most of the boots I found were real-live Western boots ... as in leather with leather inlay and leather soles. They cost about $50 to $70 a pair. Um, no thanks.

The other boots I found were covered in cartoon characters. And I wasn't interested in those, either. A respectable cowboy can't be walking around with cartoon race cars on his boots!

The closest thing I could find to plain ol' cowboy boots was a pair that looked like brown Western boots on the bottom with thick camo fabric on top. They're not exactly what I was looking for, but when he's wearing them, his pants cover up the camo part and they look like regular boots. They were also in my price range, another important feature.

When I took them out of the packaging, Biscuit went crazy. He was wearing his pajamas at the time, but it didn't matter. He wanted his boots on RIGHT THEN! There he was, clomping around the house in pajamas with monkeys all over them and brand-new cowboy boots.

I should've gotten the video camera out to record him learning to walk in them, but I couldn't stop laughing long enough. He was taking really long strides and sort of leaning back a bit. Remember the "keep on truckin'" guy from the 70s? He looked sort of like that.

Anyway, he hasn't had a chance to wear them out and about, but he asks to put them on at home so he can stomp around.

Here's Cowboy Biscuit striking a pose in his new boots.

Big, giant race

Biscuit told me he had made a big, giant race. 

"It has cars and trucks and everything, Mom," he said.

I guess we should find him a checkered flag because right now, he waves the American flag to start his races.

I'm not quite sure in which direction he intended for all these cars to go, but he declared a winner.

Oh yeah, guess what color the winner was?!? Yep, red. "Red's my favorite color."

Sometimes you can't win

Yesterday evening, while I was running a couple of errands, Jeff called to tell me that Biscuit had done his business in the potty.

This was big news.

We've been encouraging potty training, but Biscuit just hasn't seemed that interested in it. Jeff and I are on the same page about the whole thing, which is good. We want to encourage Biscuit, but we don't want to nag and push him into doing anything he isn't ready to do. Our philosophy is that it'll happen when the timing is right.

Anyway, when Jeff called, he asked if I would pick up a little prize for Biscuit's accomplishment, and I told him I would. 

Our son loves flashlights (or as he calls them "fash-wights") and for $3, I bought him a Spider-Man flashlight that I knew he would love.

I brought it home and handed the bag to Jeff. He loaded up the batteries, made a big fuss to Biscuit, telling him how proud he was about his bathroom accomplishment, then gave Biscuit the flashlight.

Biscuit was thrilled.

About 5 minutes after the grand presentation, the flashlight stopped working. Jeff checked it out and realized that the bulb had blown. And to make matters worse, they had glued shut the plastic housing where the bulb was. There was no way to get that part of the light open without breaking the plastic.

We explained to Biscuit that the light was broken and that we would get him a replacement. In the meantime, I got out a small flashlight I keep in the kitchen and gave it to Biscuit.

"Until we get your flashlight replaced, you can play with my flashlight, okay, Biscuit?" I said to him as I handed him the light.

Apparently, my flashlight was not satisfactory. When I handed it to him, he threw it on the floor.

"No! I don't want THAT fash-wight," Biscuit said.

I explained to Biscuit in no uncertain terms that we do not throw things and that we take care of our things and if he couldn't abide by those two rules, he wouldn't get to play with any of his things anymore.

For some reason, he didn't like hearing any of that.

I told Biscuit to pick up the flashlight and bring it to me. He plopped down on the floor, reached over and gave the flashlight a shove on the floor. It rolled over a few times and stopped about a foot away from Biscuit.

He KNEW that I wasn't happy because he wouldn't look at me. With his head still lowered, he cut his eyes up at me just long enough to see that I was staring at him with no expression on my face.

"Pick up the flashlight and bring it to me ... now," I said.

He brought the light over and handed it to me. Then just to improve his situation, he said, "I'm sorry, Mom" and hugged my leg. I looked over at Jeff and rolled my eyes. This child is 2 years old, and he's trying to play me.

A little while later, I was changing Biscuit into his pajamas. He was standing on my bed as I was adjusting his pants, and he said, "Mom, are you angry?" 

What a horrible question. Of COURSE I was angry. I was fuming. I was so mad and felt cheated that the stupid light I bought him as a reward broke after 5 minutes. I was frustrated with how Biscuit had acted when I gave him the substitute flashlight. I was steaming over the fact that something that should have been so simple had become so complicated.

"No. I'm not angry," I said to Biscuit. "I'm very proud of you for using the potty."

"Thanks, Mom," Biscuit said. "I'm proud for you, too."

"Biscuit, I want you to remember that you have to take care of your toys," I said. "The only thing I want to see you throwing is a ball, okay?"

"Okay," he said.

As I was setting Biscuit down off the bed, I realized his feet were cold, so I told him to run into the living room and sit with Jeff while I found his slippers. I grabbed his slippers out of the bathroom floor and headed toward the living room. I stopped at the edge of the dining room and pitched Biscuit's slippers over to the couch where he and Jeff were sitting. I knew as soon as those slippers left my hands what I had just done.

"MOM! You DON'T throw things, Mom. Do you hear me? You DON'T throw things," Biscuit said. I think he even had his teeth clenched when he said it.

Well, at least he heard what I was trying to say.

First paying job

Biscuit had his first paying job today. He got a whole 10 cents for a job well done.

When Jeff got to day care to pick up Biscuit, he found him in the 3-year-old classroom with kids of assorted ages. At the end of the day, when there are only a few kids left, the classes often get combined.

The teacher had asked the kids to help pick up the toys in the room, but apparently, Biscuit was the only one who helped.

So when Jeff walked in, she walked over and asked, "Can he have this?" motioning to the dime she had in her hand.

Jeff said, "Sure. Where did it come from?"

She explained that since Biscuit helped her clean up when the others didn't, she wanted to give him a reward.

Biscuit doesn't understand the concept of money yet, but he does know how his dolphin-shaped bank works. You drop the coin in the dolphin's mouth, and it rolls in a zig-zag pattern all the way down to a clear bubble that's supposed to be the dolphin's belly.

I think we'll go ahead and feed the dolphin tonight before Uncle Sam gets word of Biscuit's earnings and comes after his share.

Out of the mouth of my babe

A few recent comments from Biscuit:
 

Doggie: "Fetch, Boy. Go get it," Biscuit said to his little plastic dog. 

It's a white and brown dog on a leash. As Biscuit pulls the dog by the leash, he makes a squeaky little sound that's supposed to be a bark.

"Mom, can you pet my dog? He's soft," Biscuit said as he rubbed the dog's plastic head.

"Wow. He IS soft," I said to Biscuit. "What's your doggie's name?"

"He's named Boy," Biscuit said. "You know, like, 'Come on, Boy.'"

Biscuit started walking and pulling his doggie behind him. He took a corner a little too sharp, and his dog fell over.

"Oh, no! My doggie fell down," Biscuit said. "Can you help him, Mom? You're Dog Doctor."

"Okay, bring him to me," I told Biscuit. He brought the doggie over, and I messed around with him for a few seconds, then I said to Biscuit, "Okay, he's all better."

"Thanks, Dog Doctor. He's really, really better now," Biscuit said.

 

Farm animals: "Mom, this is a horse. Horses are farm animals. Cows and pigs are farm animals, too." Then he held up a frog. "Frogs are not farm animals. They're hoppity animals. They hop, hop, hop. They're hoppity."

Bring on the rock 'n' roll: Jeff and Biscuit went out to dinner tonight. As they were eating, Biscuit said, "Dad, I don't like this music. This music is too quiet. The restaurant music is too quiet, Dad. Can you ask them to play some rock 'n' roll?"

You can't be offended: In the past week, my son has called me "The Man," a pig, a dog and a monster.

You might think that I would be terribly offended, but instead of jumping to the conclusion that my son is being rude, I have to wait and hear him out.

"Mom, you're The Man," Biscuit said to me. I said OK and asked him what the man was supposed to do. "The Man turns the movie on so we can watch it. You can turn the movie on, Man?"

On another day, Biscuit was talking about farm animals and said, "Mom, you're a pig." Again, you can't assume that he's being rude. You have to wait for the explanation. "I'm a horse. Naaaay. Naaaay. What do you say, Mom?" And that's my cue to snort, grunt and say "oink."

My only complaint is that the worst thing Jeff has been called is "customer." Biscuit said, "Dad, you're the customer, and I'm the helper." Biscuit paused for a minute, then said, "How can I help you, customer?"

Maybe I'll tell Biscuit that Dad wants to play jungle, and that he really wants to be a snake!

Pumpkin patch

Yesterday afternoon, we went to a pumpkin patch/corn maze/petting zoo-type place with a couple of our friends (and their son, who is a few months younger than Biscuit). It's something I wanted to do last year but never got around to actually doing. So when our friends offered an invitation to join them, I didn't hesitate to say yes. 

Plus, our boys get along well together. We met at their house, and as we stepped up onto the front porch, their son walked over to Biscuit and said, "Look at my Spider-Man" then handed over his Spider-Man action figure. According to his parents, it was a pretty big deal because he LOVES his superheroes. Biscuit checked out the Spider-Man, then said, "Look at my horses" and handed over one of the horses he was carrying (speaking of big deals!).

The farm was about a 20-minute drive from our friends' house, and the whole way, Biscuit was asking if we were going to see the horses. I didn't know if there were going to be any horses, so I tried to prepare him for the worst. I told him we were going to a farm, and in his mind, a farm is not a farm without horses.

Luckily, they did have a pony, and that was close enough. They also had some chickens, a calf, a sheep, a couple of pot-bellied pigs and some rabbits.

We decided to go on the hay ride, so we walked up the hill to a big tractor with a long trailer behind it. I was a little surprised to realize that instead of sitting on hay bales, we would be riding on nice, cushioned boat seats ... not that I was complaining. While we were on the hay ride, we saw a couple of horses and some geese and ducks down by a pretty pond. Those horses added to the pony we had seen earlier seemed to be enough for horse-crazy Biscuit.

I've always wanted to do one of the big corn mazes, but I went to the website for this farm, and their corn maze was about 6 acres. If it had been just Jeff and me, I would definitely have done it. But all I could think of was getting halfway through it, Biscuit getting bored and melting down. Needless to say, that would not have made for a happy afternoon. So we were quite content to skip the maze and hang out in the kids' area.

They had these cool bouncy horses that were a lot like the Hippety-Hops we had as kids. There were three different sizes, so Jeff, Biscuit and I each had a horse that worked for us. When we lined them up beside each other, Jeff said it looked like the opening seen of "Bonanza." So of course, I had to hum the theme song while we bounced.

They also had a barrel train that was quite ingenious. They laid hand trucks down and hooked them together. Then they took oil drums and cut holes in them and built wooden platform seats. They mounted the oil drums on top of the hand trucks and hooked the whole thing behind a small tractor. I think both boys enjoyed it.

Our friends' son was fascinated by Charlotte's Web. It was a web made of rope and netting that kids could climb on. Biscuit got on the web for a few minutes but didn't stay for long.

"Mom, spiders live in webs. I don't want the spiders to get me," Biscuit said. I tried to explain to him that it was a play web, not a real one, but he wasn't buying it. He wanted to get off the web and go back to the bouncy horses.

By the time we left, both boys were pretty tired. Biscuit was asleep before we made it out of the parking lot. He slept all the way home, then I carried him into the house and tucked him into my bed, where he slept another 3 hours. 

Biscuit slept so hard that when he got up, he thought it was the next day. He walked over to Jeff and said, "Dad, do you remember yesterday when we played on the horses at the farm?"

I think everybody had a good time.

ABCs ... again!

Biscuit knows lots of songs, but for some reason, the only one he wants to sing these days is the ABC song. He did accompany himself on three different musical instruments. I guess that adds a little variety to his act.

The hard questions

I have dreaded the days of the "hard questions." You know, the questions that come from so far out of the blue, you stammer and stutter and try to figure out the best answer to give your child.

I am a firm believer in the "share as little as possible" method. I figure that if I answer the question as simply as possible, with as few details as possible, there's an off chance that a simple answer is all he was looking for. On the other hand, if he wants more than that, he can just ask for more.

I thought we'd have a long time before such questions were a problem. No such luck.

We were on the way to a pumpkin patch/corn maze/petting zoo this morning, and we passed a huge cemetery. All the headstones were the rectangle ones that stand about 3 feet high, and each stone had a vase in front of it with artificial flowers.

Upon seeing stone after stone and vase after vase of flowers, Biscuit said, "What's that? What are those things?" and pointed toward the cemetery.

"Those are vases of flowers to decorate those things, making them look nice," Jeff said.

"Oh," Biscuit said. It was quiet for an incredibly long 10 seconds or so, then Biscuit shouted, "Look! There's a cow!

Whew! That wasn't too bad. Jeff told him enough to satisfy him but not enough that it would freak him out.

If only all explanations were that simple!

Out of the mouth of my babe

 A few recent comments from Biscuit:



Tissue: "Mom, I need a tissue for my nose. I need to get the burgers out." I don't think I want to eat any "burgers" that Biscuit might put in a tissue.


Rock 'n' roll: Jeff and Biscuit were on the way home from day care. According to Biscuit, they were going fast in the green car.

Jeff put a CD in the player, and Biscuit started nodding his head to the music.

"Thanks, Dad," Biscuit said to Jeff.

"Thanks for what?" Jeff asked.

"Thanks for giving me back my rock 'n' roll," Biscuit said. "I LOVE rock 'n' roll."

 
Explaining to Dad: I overheard this conversation while Jeff was giving Griffin a bath.

Biscuit: Thanks, customer.

Jeff: What's a customer?

Biscuit: It's, it's, it's when a patient goes to see the doctor, but a customer goes to the drum store.

Jeff: Where is the drum store?

Biscuit: Right here, Dad. And you can buy drums at the drum store.


Stream of consciousness:  Biscuit and I were on the way to day care this morning, and here's what I heard from the back seat. 

"Mom, red is my favorite color. Fire trucks are red. Do you know fire trucks are red, Mom?"

We rounded a curve and drove past a fire station.

"LOOK! LOOK! There's a fire truck, Mom. No, TWO FIRE TRUCKS! TWO FIRE TRUCKS, MOM!!! Two fire trucks. Two years. I'm 2 years old. Mom, I'm 2 years old. I see two fire trucks, and I'm two years old."

He paused for about 10 or 15 seconds, then he said, "Fire trucks are red. Red is my favorite color. The fire trucks are red. Red is my favorite. There were two fire trucks, and I'm 2 years old. Red lights are red, too, Mom. We have to stop at red lights. We have to go at green lights, but green is not my favorite. Red is my favorite. Are we at day care yet?"

Stylin' and profilin'

Tonight, Mr. Biscuit is sporting his red cowboy hat. It used to be a sheriff's hat, but he didn't like the star sticker that was on the front of it and asked me to peel it off. His hat is set off by skateboard shirt and his well-broken-in Levis. Did you know they even made Levis for a butt that little?!? And his final accessory? His Lightnin' McQueen slippers. And heaven forbid, DO NOT call them shoes. They're not shoes. They're slippers. And believe me when I say that Biscuit will definitely let you know that you're wrong if you call them anything else.

Three is a magic number

One-and done. It’s a popular phrase out there these days for couples who have chosen to have only one child. Jeff and I didn’t plan to be one-and-done, but unfortunately, that will be our fate. 

It took us three years and one miscarriage to get Biscuit. The process wasn’t fun and included fertility drugs, a lot of frustration and a lot of sadness and disappointment.

So we were very nervous when we decided to try to add another child to our family.

The good thing this time is that we weren’t starting from scratch. Before I got pregnant with Biscuit, my doctor and I figured out that I had some problems that made it a longshot for me to get pregnant. But we lucked out and got the right combination of drugs and treatments, and then Biscuit was on the way.

We tried all the same stuff this time, but it didn’t work. And now, I’ve taken all the drugs I can, and any of the other treatments have really high chances of multiple babies. We wanted ONE more baby, not several.

We’re sad. We’re disappointed. I think Jeff is handling it better than I am. Quite frankly, I’m pretty bitter about it right now just because we’re in a good position to have another child. We have jobs, a house, family and friends, and most importantly, each other. What else does a kid need?

The thing that’s helping me get through this is that I already have Biscuit. He is more than I could have ever hoped for. He is loving and smart and so, so cute. He drives us crazy and amazes us all at the same time.

Even though Biscuit was desperately wanted, we were so scared before he got here. We were convinced we would be terrible parents, and we would have no idea what we were doing. You know what we’ve learned? We’re pretty good parents, even though we don’t have any idea what we’re doing.

I’m sorry Biscuit won’t have the experience of a sibling. I’m sorry that when he’s older and completely frustrated with Jeff and me, he won’t have that sibling to complain to – that person who has had the shared experience of having Jeff and me as parents.

There’s no rule about how many people it takes to make a family. Even though it hasn’t turned out exactly as we planned, our family number will be three.

A thousand faces

Biscuit started making faces the other night, so of course I grabbed my camera. Here are a few of about 25!

Biscuit sends a message

If you've seen "The Godfather," you'll understand my first thought last night when I pulled the covers back on my bed.

I think Biscuit has made me an offer I can't refuse!

Going to the fair

I have a friend who has a knack for getting free tickets to places. I've never asked her if she has "connections," as in, "I'll put in a call to my Uncle Guido." But seeing as we get to take advantage of the free tickets every so often, I just take them at face value and say thank you.

Last Monday night, that friend offered us free tickets to the fair. We didn't tell Biscuit where we were going until we were on the way. We didn't want to get his hopes up in case something happened. But once we got there, he was pretty excited.


I thought for sure that Biscuit would meet the required minimum height standards this year, but alas, he still has another inch to grow. All he could ride was the carousel (as long as an adult went with him) and the giant slide (as long as he rode down on an adult's lap).

We took him on the carousel twice, complete with a minor tantrum as we were exiting after the second ride. He was NOT ready to leave his carousel horse behind. Then he rode the giant slide twice -- once with Jeff and once with our ticket-scoring friend.

We had fair food for dinner (giant corn dogs, fries, chicken on a stick, giant turkey legs), played a couple of games (Jeff won a little red bear that Biscuit named Buddy) and were just generally over-stimulated by the lights and sounds.

As we made our way over to the petting zoo, Biscuit saw a horse and wanted to know if he could ride it. It was a full sized horse, so I told him that the horse was too big. "Can I ride the wittle horse?" Biscuit asked. So we got him a pony ride.

He was so excited when we told him he was going to ride the pony. But once he got into the saddle, it was all serious business. I guess he's seen too many cowboys in the old Western movies. Jeff walked beside the horse while Biscuit was riding, just to make sure he stayed put in the saddle. The ponies were on a harness that moved in a circle, and as they started, Jeff realized that to keep up, he'd be taking a brisk walk. But Biscuit was happy.

"I'm a good horse rider," Biscuit told Jeff. And he was.

I thought Biscuit would be fast asleep by the time we got home, but he was wide awake, talking the whole way. Hmmm. Wonder where he gets that from?!?

Out of the mouth of my babe

A few recent comments from Biscuit:


Monster removal: "Mom. There's a green monster next to the bed," Biscuit said to me on a recent night.

Apparently, the monster has been there for a couple of days now because every time he and I have been in our bedroom, he has told me that the monster is on my side of the bed.

I walked over to the side of the bed and started shooing my hands and said, "Get outta here, Green Monster."

Biscuit just smiled.

Monsters are easier to get rid of than I thought they'd be.


The nose knows: "Something smells," Biscuit will say to us.

"Does it smell good or smell bad?" we'll ask.

He'll usually answers, but even so, I can't get him to understand that just saying something smells is sort of rude.


Makes sense to me: "In baseball, you have home runs. In football, you have touchdowns," I said to Biscuit this morning.

"Touchdowns?" Biscuit asked.

"Yes, touchdowns" I said, and held my arms straight up like referees do when they call a touchdown.

"But your arms are up, Mom. It's not a touchdown because your arms are up. It's a touch up, Mom, not a touchdown."

I never really thought about it before, but the logic makes perfect sense.


Stream of consciousness: As Jeff was helping Biscuit brush his teeth this morning, he said, “Are you ready for me to check your teeth, dude?”

Biscuit said to him, “No. I’m not dude. I’m Griffin. Can you say that, Dad? Griffin. Grif. Fin. Say it, Dad. Grif. Fin. My name is Grif. Fin. No. I’m not a shark. I don’t have a fin. Sharks have fins. I’m not Grif. Fin. I’m Griffin. Sharks have fins.


Shapes: Biscuit knows all his shapes, including oval and rhombus. Rhombus starts with R. R-r-r-rhombus. Oh, wait, where was I?

Oh yeah, shapes.

Anyway, last night, Biscuit said, “Circles are round, Dad. They don’t have any sides. Squares have sides, but circles don’t have sides.”

Just to carry on the conversation, Jeff said, “Don’t they have one side?”

Biscuit said, “No, Dad. No sides. Circles have no sides. Squares have sides. Circles don’t have sides. They're round.”

He seems to think that the more he repeats something, the truer it gets.

One day, Biscuit was practicing his letters, and he said, "R makes r-r-r sound. Like race cars."

"Or rooster," I said.

"No, Mom. Rooster not start with R," he said with a lot of attitude. "P-p-p-rooster."

I argued for a little while, but sometimes, you just have to choose your battles.

The funny thing is that even though Biscuit argues at the time, 9 times out of 10, the next time the subject comes up again, he's changed his answer.

Just the other day, I asked him if he could tell me some words that start with R.

"Yes. R-r-race car. R-r-rhombus. R-r-rocket. R-r-rooster," he said.

Smart and stubborn. I think this child is going to give us a run for our money.

More new stuff

Sometimes things sneak up on you. Like, I'll suddenly realize that Biscuit is doing something he's never done before, or he's learned something new. I'm always impressed with his accomplishments, but sometimes I feel a bit guilty for not even realizing how they came to be.

Just now, I told Biscuit to wipe his hands on the paper towel beside his plate. He held his hands up and said, "Is the paper towel on my left side or my right side?"

I wasn't looking at him when he said it, so I turned and looked at him and said, "can you say that again?"

"Okay, Mom. I said, 'Is the paper towel on my left side (at which time he wiggled his left hand) or on my right side (at which time he wiggled his right hand)."

When did he learn his left and right?!?

Before we started eating dinner, I asked Biscuit to say the blessing. I'm so used to how he says it ...

"Bwess dis food for our good."

This might not seem big to some people, but tonight, Biscuit said, "Bwess THis food for our good." He's never been able to pronounce the "th" sound.

It's amazing how much little people have to learn, even before they even think about going to school.

A day at the park

There are so many things to do around the town we live in, and we have been really slack about taking advantage of them.

But I told Jeff this morning, that we need to get off our rear ends and go do some stuff. So today we did.

There's a park about 20 minutes from our house that has a really pretty lake with pontoon boat rides, a miniature train and several playgrounds. I think you can tell by the pictures that Biscuit enjoyed our outing.

Remembering

I was making pancakes this morning, and I dropped the measuring cup after I had dumped the flour into the bowl. A thin coating of flour settled all over the top of my stove. I muttered under my breath as I wet a paper towel and started wiping up my mess.

But I couldn't help thinking about how small my mess was compared to the mess left by the huge dense clouds of smoke and dust that blew away from the World Trade Center towers on Sept. 11, 2001. Everybody knows about the police, EMS and firefighters who risked (and lost) their lives trying to save people. And most people know about the construction crews who dealt with the twisted steel left at ground zero.

But this morning, I was thinking about the people who had to go in clean up all the other stuff. The people who had to clear out all the paper and other stuff that flew out of those buildings. And that thick layer of dust and smoke that settled on everything in sight. I can't imagine what those people had to see and smell and how long it must have taken them to get everything back to its original state. It's funny the things you think about.

I was asleep when the planes hit the buildings. I was working on the night copydesk, which meant I wouldn't have gone to bed until about 3 a.m. on Sept. 11. So at 8:46 a.m. that morning, I had been asleep for about 5 hours, with a few more hours to go.

I got a phone call from a friend of mine who told me what was going on. I got up, went downstairs and watched the TV coverage. It seemed unreal, like I was watching a movie.

I don't remember what emotions I was feeling that morning. After working for years at hospitals, then newspapers, the process of dealing with disasters in my head might sound a little harsh, but it starts with, "Okay, what do we need to do." I tend to have a hard time dealing with the feelings and emotions of what's going on at the time because I've spent many years in jobs where you had to set aside your feelings to take care of business.

I had that very conversation with a friend of mine last week. Over dinner, we were discussing her new job. She deals with serious situations on a daily basis. One of her younger co-workers was pretty upset over something that happened at work, and my friend was concerned because she wasn't upset. She asked me if I thought she was cold-hearted. I laughed at her because I've had that thought a thousand times before about myself.

The evening of Sept. 11, 2001, I designed the Sept. 12 front page. Normally, you get a list of stories and photos that will be on the page, and you set about creating the page. That night, I had at least six people over my shoulder for pretty much the whole night. It was a little unnerving. We sorted through the many, many photos from that day of the buildings, the dust-coated faces of the people on Manhattan streets, the people who saw no other choice but to jump from the buildings, the bridges filled with people fleeing the city on foot and all the rescue people doing what they do best. We got the paper done, and I went home.

I had a hard time going to sleep that night.

We had to re-live the events of Sept. 11 over and over again for the next month or so as all the details of the events were put together and clean up was under way, and the list of victims was growing. It was a hard time to do what we do for a living. Some said journalists were being voyeuristic and should just leave people alone. But because of their efforts (our efforts if I may count myself among them) we have so many memories captured on paper and video. We have historic newspaper pages, dramatic video footage, beautifully-written stories, gripping photographs -- all the things that will help explain the story to generations to come.

This morning, I watched a show on TV that took professional and amateur video and put it all together as a timeline of that day's events. It was fascinating to observe a family who watched the events out of their living room window. They were close enough to see it happen but far enough away to be out of harm's way. I'm glad I didn't have Biscuit at that point because I can't imagine trying to explain it to a small child.

I didn't really have much emotion while watching the video show. I was more fascinated with the TV crews and reporters who were at the scene and the people who were able to capture that morning on tape. But then I flipped through some other channels and came across one where they were reading the names of the victims. I stayed there for about 3 minutes, but then I had to move on to something else. Hearing those names and seeing the emotions of the people reading them was too much to handle. It brought faces to those who were lost. The thought of losing Jeff of Biscuit or a family member or friend like these people had was just too much.

I don't know if my approach of handling these situations is good or bad or harmful or helpful. All I know is each person has to find what will help him or her through whatever life throws at them.

As much as I hate it, I know Biscuit will have to deal with hard and complicated situations in his life. My prayer for him is that when he has to face hard times, he can find courage and strength and grace and mercy to be his companions.

You've almost got it

For months, Biscuit has refused to do anything once I got out the video camera. But now, he's all about seeing himself on the computer.

He'll say, "I'm going to sing. You want to take a picture of me?"

So here's Biscuit's latest rendition of the ABC song. He never quite made it to the end, but he accompanied himself on the piano.

Out of the mouth of my babe

A few things Biscuit has said recently:


Riding for the brand: Biscuit and Jeff love Western movies. Biscuit loves them for the cowboys and horses. And Jeff loves them for, well, the cowboys and horses. One of his favorite sayings from the old Westerns is when a cowboy says he's riding for the brand. It's basically the cowboy saying that he is loyal to the ranch he's riding for. He tried to use the line on Biscuit, but Biscuit didn't really catch on.

Here was their conversation:

Biscuit: I'm going to ride my horse. Say hey to Pinto.

Jeff: Hey, Pinto.

Biscuit: Dad, say "That's some good riding, Biscuit."

Jeff: That's some good riding, Biscuit. Are you riding for the brand? Biscuit: No. I'm riding for town.


Arm strings: Biscuit and my Mama were sitting together talking.

Biscuit: Your arms have strings, Grandmama.

Grandmama: My arms have what?

Biscuit: Strings. See? (as he rubs the hair on her forearm) I don't have strings. See?

Grandmama: You will someday.


Cookie message: We had Chinese food for dinner tonight. When it was time for fortune cookies, I helped Biscuit open his.

"Mom, my cookie has a note in it," Biscuit said.

"Yes, it does," I said. "And the note says you will travel many places in your lifetime."


Golden books: Jeff's Mama saved all of the Little Golden books from Jeff's childhood and gave them to us when Biscuit arrived.

We put them on a shelf in Biscuit's room, and now that he is in his big-boy bed, he can help himself to the books whenever he wants.

It's so fun to wake up to a swooshing sound over the baby monitor and realize it's Biscuit flipping through some of his books.

Biscuit is still obsessed with horses and fire trucks, so books about those two topics are always on top.

The other day, Biscuit brought a book to Jeff and asked him to read it. It was a book about Paul Revere, complete with a horse on the cover.

"What's this book about?" Jeff asked Biscuit. Biscuit looked at the cover and thought for a minute.

"It's about a pirate cowboy on a horse, Dad," he said.

It sounds odd, but if you look at the cover, can't you see it?

Musical performances

Biscuit entertains us quite often with all the songs he knows. Here are a couple of his favorites:

A wild day

Biscuit and I are visiting with family in Georgia while Jeff stays home to work.

Yesterday, we visited Wild Animal Safari in Pine Mountain, Georgia. Here are a few photos:

See this giraffe? See them feeding the giraffe?

Well, this is what happens when that nice giraffe sneezed on Mama and Biscuit.

I found a friend of a different kind.