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.

WHAT did you say?

I've heard stories about kids coming home from school with colorful new vocabulary. But I didn't think it would start until he was 5 or 6. I was wrong.

Someone in our house passed gas rather loudly, and our sweet Biscuit pointed and said, "Poot!" Then he grinned.

Great! I can't wait for that one to come flying out at just the right moment.

NOW he plays with it

As is the case with most kids nowadays, Biscuit has WAY too many toys. And honestly, he does play with most of them.

But in an effort to gain back a little space in the living room, I decided to keep an eye on his toy inventory to see if there were any I could pass along to some of his friends.

There's a toy he got as a hand-me-down where you push balls through sections on the top, then the balls roll through the innards of a little tower and spit out one of four holes at the base. And of course, this process is accompanied by music that was cute the first 85 times we heard it.

So I told Jeff last night that I hadn't seen him mess with that toy in a couple of weeks, so I thought I could just weed it out and hand it down as it was handed down to us.

Guess what he has been obsessed with ALL DAY?!? You guessed it. The toy I had planned to eliminate from the stockpile.

I'll give it another week and see what happens.

Using his words

Biscuit's vocabulary is growing every day. But he still uses his first and favorite words ... a lot.

Dada, Mama, ball, car, baby, dog and duck. We hear those words about 85 times each day.

When Biscuit and I go to Target together, we have a routine. I park beside a buggy return because it's easy to return the buggy when we come out. Then I take Biscuit out of his car seat, and we head across the parking lot.

"You have to hold my hand when we walk in the parking lot," I tell Biscuit. So he wraps his little hand around my finger, and we head to the store.

Target has these big, red balls out in front of the store. I don't think they have a purpose, except for decoration. On each trip, Biscuit has to touch no less than three of those balls. And of course, he has to announce to everyone who passes, "Ball. Ball. Ball."

Yesterday, he tried something new. He walked up to one of the balls and kicked it. Then he staggered back and said, "Ow." I didn't even know that he knew what "ow" meant.

Once we get into the store, we get a buggy and start our shopping. As we pass the photo department, Biscuit says, "Dog. Baby. Ball. Dog. Baby. Ball." On the back wall of the photo department, there are pictures of a dog with a ball and a father and a baby. Then he waves to the workers at the service desk. Sometimes they wave back. Sometimes they don't. He doesn't really care.

As we go through the store, he announces every baby he sees, whether it's a real baby, or a picture somewhere, or on a box or on a store sign. He also announces every ball, car and dog he sees. Oh yeah, he's recently added cats to his repertoire. Although, he pronounces it sorta like cot.

As we go through the baby section (and we ALWAYS go through the baby section), he points to diapers, sippy cups and a few other items and says, "Mine. Mine." He knows that those are things we have at home for him.

The only problem I usually have with him is if we pass anything that he likes to eat. It doesn't matter if it's crackers or his brand of juice or heaven forbid "nananas," he thinks he's supposed to have some ... right then. I can usually distract him with a snack from my pocketbook or by showing him something cool in the store.

When it's time to check out, I try to wait around until there's a short line. The boy, much like me, doesn't have much patience when it comes to waiting for things.

Then the conversations start with the cashier. "Hey. Hey. Hey." to start out. Then he'll name anything in our buggy that he can say, "Shoes. Nananas. Mine."

Then he starts with the goodbyes. "Bye" to the cashier, complete with a wave. Then "bye" to everybody we pass between the cash register and the car.

And of course, he has to point and name every car and truck in the parking lot.

It's amazing to watch my little man grow. He's turning into his own little person. And if my little boy continues to like shopping as much as my big boy does, I'll be one lucky mama.

Baaabaaayyyyy!!!

I have no explanation for why he's doing this voice, but it's quite funny.

New skills

Now, if I could just teach him to do windows ...

A new exhibit

Biscuit and I learned today how the animals at the zoo feel about being on display.

One of our neighbors came over last week to see Biscuit. She said she never sees him outside and wanted to check in and see how he's growing.

When we go outside to play, we always go in the back yard. It's fenced in. That's where Biscuit's toys are. And that's where my swing is. So it makes sense.

But it didn't occur to me that the neighbors around the cul-de-sac might be interested in seeing Biscuit every once in a while.

So when I got home from work today, I let Biscuit walk to the mailbox with me. Then we hung out in the front yard for a while.

One of our neighbors was cutting his grass, but when he saw us playing, he turned the mower off and came over. He and Biscuit had a nice conversation.

Then our neighbors from across the street stopped by in their van as they were leaving. They had a conversation with Biscuit, too.

Then another neighbor waved at us from his yard. Just a minute later, his wife was walking over to our yard. She said he ran in the house and yelled, "The baby is out! The baby is out!" So she came over to see him.

It was really nice showing off my boy. We lucked out in the neighbor department. We have really nice people living around us.

But man, I sure did feel on display this afternoon. It's like Biscuit and I were the new pandas at the zoo!

No funny videos

You would think that "America's Funniest Videos" would be a safe thing to watch with Biscuit, right? You'd be wrong.

Every time they show people getting hit, he reaches toward the TV and cries.

Every time they show somebody falling down, he reaches toward the TV and cries.

Every time they show an animal making a weird noise, he reaches toward the TV and cries.

Are you sensing a pattern here?

I guess that means no more "America's Funniest Videos."

It must be a duck

The old saying goes that if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it must be a duck.

My Biscuit baby showed us a little logic of his own.

When he saw seagulls flying, he pointed and said, "Bird. Bird." (Of course, it sounded more like "Buhd. Buhd.")

But when he saw sea gulls on the beach in the edge of the water, they were ducks.

According to him, birds + sky = birds, but birds + water = ducks, even if they're the very same birds.

Makes sense to me.

Feeding Biscuit on vacation

I was pretty disappointed in many of the children’s menus at the restaurants we went to on our trip. The choices were hot dog with fries, chicken strips with fries, hamburger with fries and grilled cheese with fries. No veggies in sight.

So Biscuit’s diet on our trip wasn't anywhere near ideal. I had to give him instant cheese grits at the condo after the rest of us ate a really nice seafood dinner.

The one part he did get to enjoy at one dinner was the dessert … fried strawberries! Yes, I said FRIED strawberries. They dipped fresh strawberries in pancake batter, then fried them, then rolled them in cinnamon and sugar. Jeezy Pete were they good!

Of course, I think the batter … and the frying part … and the cinnamon and sugar sorta takes away the nutritional value of the strawberries, but it was well worth it.

We have a pretty good variety of places to go at home. One restaurant serves mac ‘n’ cheese with sides of black beans or stewed apples. Another place has a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with yogurt and fruit. Another place has a kid-size meat and three or a veggie plate.

I was hoping I was finally done with having to carry a full Biscuit meal in my pocketbook everywhere we went.

I figure the more teeth he gets, the better he'll be able to eat. He's not shy about trying new things, so getting him to eat is hardly ever a problem.

Maybe we can find a better selection of meals for him on our next trip.

Little Jefe

Biscuit got a book for Easter all about how Little Bunny helped Little Chick pick raspberries, then Little Bunny helped Little Chick fly his kite, then Little Bunny helped Little Chick … well, you get the idea.

Jeff thinks it's funny to add even more "littles" to the story, as in ... Little Bunny helped Little Chick pick up his little toys and put them in his little toybox before he got in his little bed.

So when we took a walk on the beach this morning and saw a horseshoe crab on its back, Jeff used his foot to flip it back over. Then we watched it swim out to sea.

Then Jeff looked at me and said, “See, Little Jefe helped Little Horseshoe Crab turn over on his Little Stomach so he could swim out in the Little Sea.”

He THINKS he’s funny!

Trip to Savannah

We spent this past week in Savannah and Tybee Island. Jeff, Biscuit and I and Jeff’s parents left Monday morning and traveled 5½ hours to get to a condo we rented right where the Savannah River meets the ocean.

We spent a day in the Historic District of Savannah, where we took a trolley tour to get our fill of city history. Then we toured a beautiful church, walked along the riverfront and ate at The Pirate House (part of which includes the oldest building in Georgia and is supposedly quite haunted).

We also visited the Tybee Island Lighthouse. Jeff and his dad climbed the 178 steps to the top, and his mom, Biscuit and I stood at the bottom and waved at them. We had enough fun throwing a little football around in the parking lot. Plus, we weren’t anywhere near as tired as the climbers were.

We spent some time walking along the water, where we saw horseshoe crabs, jellyfish and lots of birds. Biscuit wasn’t quite as freaked out by the water. I think it was two things: 1. The water was a whole lot warmer than it was the last time we were at the beach, and 2. Since we were at the mouth of the river, the waves weren’t as big or loud.

As much fun as the beach and Savannah were, I think our boy’s favorite part of the trip was riding the elevator up to the third floor to our condo. The elevator had quite a jump when it took off and when it stopped, so it provided a fun ride and lots of giggles.

Biscuit got a T-shirt from Savannah and one from Tybee Island, and I've started a postcard box for him so he can see the places he's been. All in all, it was a good good trip.

We left to come home Friday afternoon. Biscuit still travels really well, and fingers crossed, I hope that will continue.

Bad pants

Do you think if Biscuit grabs a pair of his pants from the laundry basket and throws them in the trash can, it's a sign he doesn't want to wear them anymore?

Taking a dive

I got to day care to pick up Biscuit this afternoon and saw red marks and a scratch on his face. I guess the teacher saw my face, so she quickly explained that Biscuit had a run-in on the playground.

"A run-in?" I asked. "With who?"

"Thin air," she said. "He was booking it across the playground when all of a sudden his feet shot right out from under him."

I asked her what happened next. I could tell by his face that it couldn't have felt good when he fell.

"He surprised me," she said. "He didn't cry at all. He just jumped up, pointed his finger to the ground and yelled, 'No, no, no!' He yelled at the ground. I couldn't help but laugh."

His face looks kinda pitiful, but I couldn't help but laugh at him, too.

Where everybody knows his name

Biscuit made it through his first week of the toddler room, despite the massive amount of worrying I've done. I realize there was no reason to worry, thousands of kids have transitioned perfectly well from the infant room to the toddler room, but hey, worrying is one of the things I do best!

Friday morning eased my worries, though. Biscuit and I walked into the toddler room and about 6 or 8 kids ran over to greet him. "Griffin. Giffin. Gwiffin. Fiffin." There were 6 or 8 kids and 6 or 8 pronunciations of Biscuit's name!

I told Jeff, "It was just like on "Cheers" when Norm walked into the room."

One little boy even came over with a ball and handed it to Biscuit."Here, ball," the little boy said. "Ball," Griffin said.

I translated this conversation to mean ...

Little boy: "Good morning my friend Griffin. How are you this lovely morning?"

Biscuit: "Just fine, thank you, and you? Shall we run screaming to the other side of the room and play with the ball you just handed me?"

So that's what they did.

I did get a quick half-wave goodbye and a smile. So I figured I could start my day feeling okay.

A proud moment for The Daddy Man

A post from The Daddy Man:

Biscuit got a ride-in car from Santa at Christmas, and I push him around the house in it. We have the perfect circle to ride ... living room, dining room, kitchen, hall, entryway, living room, repeat.

He also has a teething ring that looks a set of keys on a fob. There's a horn button and a button that sounds like a car cranking up.

This morning, I had a proud moment. My boy put the car and the keys together. I was trying to get him ready for day care, and he got away from me. When I tracked him down, he was sitting in his car banging the keys against the dashboard, looking for an ignition hole.

That's my boy!

Biscuit's books

Biscuit loves books.

I think if he had to make a list of his top 5 things so far in his life, it would go:
1. Outside
2. Bananas
3. Books
4. Balls
5. Anything with wheels

He can't always be outside, eating bananas, throwing balls or riding or driving a vehicle, but there's pretty much a book with us wherever we go.

He's picky about his books, too. You can't just grab one and start reading. HE has to pick out what we read.

If you're sitting in a chair, he'll hand his book to you then throw his hands up for you to pick him up so he can sit in your lap. And if you're sitting on the floor, he'll grab his book, turn around and walk backwards until he gets to you, then he'll just flop down in your lap.

The other cool thing is that he's really familiar with some of his books now. He growls at the right spot in his "Cranky Bear" book. He goes nuts as soon as he sees the policeman on the horse in his police book. And when Clovis the Tiger gets ready to jump in the water, he makes a big "SPLOOSH" sound.

Jeff and I both love to read, so I hope his love of books sticks with him.

Sweet Biscuit vs. Unsweet Biscuit

One of the teachers at Biscuit's day care asked me a couple of weeks ago if I was familiar with the story of Samson in the Bible. I told her yes, I remember the story about how Samson was strong and had long hair, but when they cut his hair off, he lost all of his strength.

Well, she said that while Biscuit's hair was still long, he was her usual sweet, little baby. But since we got his locks chopped, he bit a kid and went through a couple of days of hitting. So she said his week of being Unsweet Biscuit was our fault and told us not to cut his hair anymore!

Here's my shaggy, sweet baby and my mean, little short-haired boy!

Big day for Biscuit

My Biscuit baby had big doings today.

It was his first full-time day in the toddler room, and he got to spend his evening with two of our friends while Jeff and I went on a date.

Mama didn't handle the whole day anywhere near as well as Biscuit did!

Biscuit has been in transition from the infant room to the toddler room for a few months now. He's learning to feed himself and has been getting along well with the other toddlers, but he's still a good bit smaller than the other kids in the class, so the teachers have held off having him with the toddlers full time.

But two weeks ago, we got the official letter saying that last week would be his transition week. He would start out in the infant room, then spend most of the day with the toddlers. It worked well, so today was the official move-up day.

I'm not sure why, but it was pretty emotional for me. Just seeing him with all those walking, talking little people in the toddler room was overwhelming. He's moving from being a baby to a little person. And I'm not ready!

I asked about how his days would go, and the teachers told me that he'd get to go outside twice a day (and I guarantee they'll have to fight to get him to come in), they have story time and song time, they learn colors and numbers, they practice manners - please, thank you, etc. and probably his favorite thing, they get to eat at a little table instead of high chairs. He thinks he's Mr. Big Shot when he can eat outside of his high chair!

I was nervous a good part of work today. And it was for no reason at all. He did great. As a matter of fact, when I walked into the toddler room to pick him up, he wasn't ready to go yet. For me, it was a mixture of "My little boy isn't excited to see me," and "Yay! He likes the toddler room!"

The best part for me is that we don't have to carry snacks or sippy cups for him. In the infant room, parents would bring whatever the child could eat. But in the toddler room, they're mostly on the same eating level, so they all get school-provided snacks. Plus, he's learning to drink from a regular cup, so we don't have to send his sippy cups anymore. It wasn't a big deal to provide those, but every morning, we had to write his name and the date on each thing we sent for him. It was a tedious task that we don't have to do anymore.

And for the biggest advantage ... he costs us $10 less each week. The older they get at day care, the cheaper the rate is because they don't require as much hands-on care. Once he's potty-trained, he'll get even cheaper!

Two of our friends volunteered to babysit tonight so Jeff and I could go on a date. They've sat with Biscuit before, so I knew everything would be fine. Last time they kept him, he was getting over a cold, and he was having some pretty severe teething pain, so, they didn't get to play a lot because he just wasn't up for it.

But tonight, he was in a great mood, his allergies weren't too bad, and the weather was nice enough for them to take him outside. I warned them that there might be drama when they made him come inside, but apparently, they had an idea I hadn't thought of. When it was time to go in, they said, "Hey, let's go inside and have a banana." The only thing my baby likes better than outside is bananas, so good call on their part!

Meanwhile, Jeff and I had a nice steak dinner then rambled around the bookstore for a while. It was nice and relaxing, and we made a pact on the way to the restaurant that we wouldn't talk about work at all.

But even though we were having a great time, and even though I knew that everything with Biscuit was fine, and even though I knew that if anything was going on, the babysitter friends would call me, and even though ...

"Jeff, they would call us if something was wrong, wouldn't they?" I asked.

"Yes. They would call," Jeff said. And he didn't say it with any attitude or in a making-fun of me way or anything.

I told him that other than the fact that worrying is what mamas do, I have no idea why that question would even cross my mind. First of all, the chances of anything going wrong are really, really slim. He's with two competent people who have been around him plenty of times before. They know what to do in case of an emergency. And secondly, they wouldn't hesitate to call if they needed us.

But any of you other mamas know exactly what I'm talking about! It's one of those things that comes along with growing eyes in the back of your head and being able to call your kid on raiding the cookie jar before his hand ever touches the lid. It's what mamas do.

Almost-midnight snack

We've had a busy day today.

We gathered a couple of boxes of stuff for Goodwill. Then we ran a few errands. Then we went to our friends' new house to help paint and pull down wallpaper for a little while. Then we grabbed some pizza and came back by another friend's house to pick up a couple of pieces of furniture.

So we've been in and out of the car, and Biscuit has been making the rounds. He played with one of his friends at the first house we went to. Then he squealed over and chased two cats at the second house we were at.

But through it all, he was a little trouper. No meltdowns. No tantrums. No drama. He was a sweet, sweet baby.

Biscuit has been struggling the past couple of weeks with seasonal allergies. This might sound a little crude, but it's been snot, snot, snot! With a bunch of coughing thrown in. We feel so bad for him.

So with all the big doings and the allergies, Biscuit was wiped out by the time we got home. I barely got him in his pajamas before he was falling asleep.

He had been asleep for 45 minutes or so when he woke up crying. I went in to get him, but he wanted his Dada. So Jeff held him for a while in the rocking chair, then Biscuit squirmed to get down. Jeff let him go, and he walked straight to the refrigerator. He pointed, then he walked straight to his high chair. We got the point.

Jeff poured him a sippy cup of water, and we gave him some mandarin oranges. He ate his snack then wandered around the living room playing for about 15 minutes. Then he crawled in Jeff's lap and settled in. Jeff took him to bed, and all is quiet again.

I guess even babies sometimes need the occasional almost-midnight snack.

Saturday afternoon playtime

We spent a good bit of Saturday in the backyard. The Biscuit couldn't have been happier. Even after hours out there, he cried when we brought him inside.

Easter at the beach

We got to spend some time at the beach while we were in Wilmington.

Saturday morning was a little creepy. It was so foggy when we got up that we couldn't even see the boats out our balcony door. We walked across the street to the beach and even standing on the sand, you could hear the ocean, but you couldn't see it. It was really creepy!

We decided to give Biscuit an Easter egg hunt on the beach. He picked up a couple of eggs, but he was more interested in chasing the sea gulls. Needless to say, they didn't like him as much as he liked them.

Biscuit had a hard time walking in the sand. We kept moving him down closer to the water on the packed sand, thinking he would like walking there better. But every time, he would move right back into the softer, deeper sand. I finally figured out that he was freaking out about the ocean. He didn't want to have anything to do with it.

We picked up some sea shells for Biscuit to take back to preschool. One of his teachers said she has a jar of seashells at home that she would add his to. He didn't understand that, but I thought it was really sweet.

We didn't want the Easter bunny to have to find Biscuit at the hotel in Wilmington, so I just decided to pack a basket for him myself. Not smart on my part, I hadn't put the basket in a bag yet when we were still packing.

I was sticking stuff in bags and Biscuit walks into the bedroom and says, "Book. Book." And without even looking, I said, "Yeah, book."

Then he walked out for a few minutes, then came back. "Ball," he said. "Yeah, ball," I said.

This went on three or four times before it occurred to me to see what books and balls he was playing with. And guess what? They were books and eggs from his Easter basket! He had emptied the whole thing. I put everything back in, double-bagged it and stuck it straight in the car.

He didn't seem to mind Sunday morning when he got to take everything back out of it again.

I talked to Mama, and she was telling me about her church's sunrise service. I told her that being able to sit on the sand with the morning sun shining on my face, I didn't need a church to have a worship service. That was about as spiritual as you can get.

The whole wedding/Easter weekend was great. The wedding was beautiful. Our small little Easter celebration was great. It was overall just a good trip.

Oh yeah, and the boy still likes to travel, which is just an added blessing.

Weekend in Wilmington

We spent Easter weekend in Wilmington this year for a friend’s wedding. We had Friday off, so we left early that morning and headed for the beach.

The hotel where we stayed was a place Jeff and I had stayed before, back before Biscuit was even thought about. It’s on the sound in Wrightsville Beach, just outside of Wilmington.

The rooms are nice and big and are kinda like efficiency apartments. There’s a full kitchen and living room, as well as a queen bedroom and a queen Murphy bed in the living room. And since it’s not on the ocean, it’s affordable, too.

At the end of this post, I’ll put in a column I wrote for the paper about the first time we stayed at this place. It was pretty funny.

Anyway, having the kitchen was great with Biscuit. The kitchen even had a dishwasher, and anyone who has a toddler knows that a dishwasher is a blessing … cups, pacifiers, spoons, even some toys.

We had a great view of the sound from our balcony, and thankfully, the railing was really tight, so we could let Biscuit stand on his own while we were out there. And in his current stage of independence, that was a good thing. He learned how to say “boat,” and he already knew how to say “bird,” so he was having a great time out there.

We had the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner Friday night. The wedding was at Aerlie Gardens, only 10 minutes from our hotel. It was really pretty with the flowers starting to bloom, although all of our shoes were coated with pollen when we got back to the car. The rehearsal dinner was at an oceanfront resort at Wrightsville Beach, also about 10 minutes from where we were staying.

Biscuit was wide open the whole night. Poor Jeff was the sole wrangler since I was a bridesmaid in the wedding. Biscuit socialized and just couldn’t find a stranger. He went up to the groom’s dad, who is in a wheelchair, grabbed the wheel and said, “Vroom. Vroom.” I apologized to this man we had never met before and told him that anything with wheels is a car to Biscuit. He laughed and thought it was pretty funny.

When the bride finally made her way over to visit with us, she reached out to hold Biscuit. He leaned out for her to hold him, then he promptly put one hand squarely on her boob. Granted, it’s not a small target, but I still explained to the boy that there’s protocol for that sort of thing and that you have to build up to a boob-grab. Plus, I told him that the groom is way bigger than him and might not like him getting handsy with his soon-to-be wife. I’m pretty sure Biscuit didn’t understand what I said, but I swear, the child looked at me and just grinned!

My 1-½-year-old is already a dirty old man!

We got to spend some time Saturday morning and Sunday morning on the beach. Biscuit wasn’t too sure about it. I’ll share more about that later.

We had to get to the wedding pretty early, so by the time the ceremony rolled around, Biscuit was getting antsy. He had been so good for so long, and he just didn’t want to sit still anymore. Luckily, with the wedding being outdoors in the gardens, Jeff just carried Biscuit around for a while and that seemed to satisfy him.

I guess the excitement of the night before caught up with him, because Biscuit didn’t see too much of the wedding reception. He fell asleep about halfway through. Unfortunately, I left the stroller just outside of the reception tent, and the dew had fallen and made the fabric seat wet, so I had to hold him. I love to hold my sleeping baby, but that 21 pounds gets heavy after a while!

Everyone bragged on how good Biscuit was the whole weekend, and I agree. He had fun meeting everyone, and so did Jeff and I.

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

Here’s the story about the hotel:

Greensboro News & Record (NC)-May 29, 2007

Trapped four flights up, but, hey, who cares?

BY KIM MILLS

Personal Adds

I was recently held captive by a sunset.

Actually, I was held captive by a locked fourth-floor balcony door that forced me to enjoy that sunset.

And how did I get stuck on a fourth-floor balcony, you ask? It's my husband's fault, of course.

Jeff and I went on vacation for our anniversary, splitting a week between Wilmington and Wrightsville Beach.

Our hotel at the beach was on the harbor side of the island, and there were plenty of goings-on to keep my attention as I sat on the balcony.

Boats, jet skis and windsurfers were cruising around the harbor.

Traffic was picking up on the bridge as people came over from Wilmington just in time for the early dinner specials.

And employees at the restaurant next door were setting up the patio tables for the dinner rush.

Jeff decided to come out and join me, and before I could tell him to check the balcony door, he had already slid it closed.

"Did you make sure that wasn't locked before you closed it?" I asked.

"Um, no," he said.

I got up and grabbed the handle and pulled. Nothing happened. I moved into a steadier stance, grabbed the handle again and pulled harder. Nothing. The door was locked.

My husband is a calm man. His feathers rarely get ruffled, and this situation didn't seem to concern him in the least.

"What are you going to do about this?" I asked.

"Enjoy the sunset, I guess," he said.

So, if you can't beat 'em (and I was plenty ready to beat him at this point), join 'em. So, I did.

I sat down in one of the rocking chairs and finished my Sprite.

After a little time passed, a nicely dressed couple parked their car across the street and started walking toward the restaurant next door.

Jeff looked down and in a very polite but way too quiet voice said, "Excuse me. ... Excuse me," and got no response.

So, I yelled down, "Hey! Up here on the fourth floor!"

The couple looked up. We explained our situation. And they said they'd be happy to let the hotel manager know so he could come let us in.

Meanwhile, a couple of guys from the restaurant kitchen were taking a smoke break.

One of the guys yelled up, "Are y'all stuck up there?"

I said, "Yep. And if they can't get us down, you might need to send some food up!"

He laughed, snuffed out his cigarette and went back into the restaurant.

Apparently, he felt the need to share the news with his co-workers because a few seconds later, about six other employees came out the back door of the restaurant to stare up at the idiots stuck on the balcony.

I could feel my face flushing with embarrassment, but when I looked over at my husband, the whole experience was put into perspective for me.

He was wearing this huge grin, doing his best parade wave to all the gawking restaurant employees below. The sunset behind him was something you'd see in a photography book. And if all else failed, the restaurant guy was ready to send up some fried shrimp.

By letting go of my worry, I had just experienced one of those moments that I will always remember.

Kim Stacks Mills is down from the balcony and back at her job as day desk chief for the News & Record.

The eyes have it

It’s amazing to me how little kids learn things. I bought Biscuit a book called “Happy Baby Words.” It has pictures of babies, body parts, clothes, toys, food and other stuff.

We’ve been reading the book together, and any time we find something he has (eyes, ears, nose, ball, etc.), I stop and show it to him in the book, then show it to him in real life. I thought this would help build his vocabulary, but until today, I didn’t know if it was working or not.

Jeff and I were playing outside with Biscuit, and I got something in my eye. As I was rubbing the side of my face, Jeff asked what was wrong, and I said, “I’ve got something in my eye.”

Biscuit said, “Eye, eye” and pointed to his eye. I was so surprised and excited.

I made a big deal about it and said “yay” and “good job,” to which he always claps for himself.

Then, he stuck his finger up his nose and said, “Nose, nose.”

I looked at Jeff as if to ask whether we applaud him knowing his nose or tell him not to stick his finger up his nose.

Then at the same time, Jeff and I both went, “Yay! Good job!” and clapped for Biscuit. And of course, Biscuit clapped for himself, too. Good job.

Chewbacca in my kitchen

Discipline is hard sometimes. Especially when Biscuit is behaving in a way that makes me want to laugh my head off instead of scold him.

My baby LOVES outside. So one evening this week, I had to fight him to get him in the house so I could make dinner.

I let him climb the deck steps by himself, but as soon as I opened the back door, he took one step away from me. “Come on. We have to go inside,” I said to him.

He took one more step away from me. So I responded by walking over and scooping him up before he could move again. This, he did not like.

I set him down in the kitchen, and he assumed this whiney, pouty position that was cracking me up.

He bent his knees a little, dropped his arms by his sides, threw his head back and just wailed. He sounded like Chewbacca in “Star Wars.”

“Waaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh,” he whined and stomped around the kitchen.

I couldn’t say a thing. I actually had to put my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. I knew if he saw me laugh, that would be my downfall.

Oh how I wish I had video of that moment to show him in about 10 years!

Classified ad

Free to a good home: One grumpy 17-month-old with constant teething pain, occasional tantrums and the bad habit of throwing everything in the floor.

Is up to date on all his shots.

Only wants to eat every other meal and often changes his mind from one meal to the next about what he likes and doesn't like to eat.

Would include his toys, but he'd rather have glass candleholders and remote controls to play with.

Doesn't like to be clean unless he gets to splash all the water out of the tub, soaking the walls and carpet.

Has the cough and laugh of a 30-year smoker, but it's really just seasonal allergies.

Does come with occasional moments of sweetness including open-mouth kisses on your cheeks, cute smiles and some kickin' dance moves.

Serious inquiries only. You've got our number.

Sometimes the stars align

There is some small sense of magic when you see the wheels turning in Biscuit's little head and you realize that he just learned something or that something we've been telling him just clicked.

This morning, Biscuit walked into the kitchen, pointed at the stove and said, "Ha. Ha. Ha." He wasn't laughing. He was trying to say, "Hot."

About two weeks ago, Biscuit snuck behind me while I had the oven door open. Usually, Jeff keeps him occupied in the living room while I'm cooking, but he crept up on me before I knew it. He reached out to touch the oven door, and I grabbed his hand just in time to keep him from getting burned.

"HOT!!!" I yelled. I scared him and he cried, but I told him that he scared me, too. I barely got to his little hand in time. So I picked him up, lowered my voice and said "hot" over and over again until he repeated it after me. I was holding my hand out toward the stove but not quite touching it.

The next day I walked over to the oven, held my hand out and said "hot." Then Biscuit copied me and did the same thing. But we haven't talked about it since then.

So this morning, when he walked in and recalled our "hot" lesson, I was surprised, impressed and proud.

Then this evening, I caught a whiff of a dirty diaper, so I said to Biscuit, "Let's go change your diaper." Usually, this means I have to chase him down, then carry him into the bedroom to change his diaper.

But tonight, I told him we needed to change his diaper, and he got up, walked into the bedroom and stood by the bed. He knew where he needed to be and what was going to happen.

It amazed me.

But then it all comes crashing down ... and he bites a kid at day care and gets written up ... and he pitches a hissy fit in Michael's while I'm trying to buy some cupcake cups ... and he wads up his kids' menu at Chili's and throws it in the floor.

The thing that helps me get through those moments is remembering all those other amazing moments. And so far, we've been lucky enough to have way more amazing moments than crashing-down moments. Let's hope it stays that way!

Not MY Biscuit Baby

Picture it, Harris Teeter, one early spring evening about 6:30. Jeff, Biscuit and I are getting our groceries, and everything seems to be fine.

Then, all of a sudden, for no reason, Biscuit decides that his life is the worst thing EVER!!!

I try talking to him. I make all the silly noises and faces that usually make him laugh. I try to give him a snack from the little container of Cheerios that all moms of toddlers are required to carry in their purses. Nothing worked.

I asked Jeff if he would walk with him and see if that would help. I took Biscuit out of the buggy seat and stood him on the floor. Jeff reached his hand out to grab Biscuit's hand. But before that could happen, Biscuit laid down in the floor and wailed.

I looked at Jeff and he looked at me, as if to say, "Who is that baby and why is he having a tantrum while we're trying to get groceries?"

Apparently, this is not Biscuit's first tantrum. I was informed at day care that Biscuit wanted a toy that another little boy had, so he tried to take it from him. When that didn't work, Biscuit laid in the floor and cried.

It's happened a couple more times at day care and at home. At day care, they put him in a high chair and give him a book to look at. That takes him out of the situation and gives him time to cool down. Plus, he's starting to put it together that there are consequences.

When it's happened at home, I basically step over him and go into another room. I figure any attention I give him will encourage him to throw another fit the next time he wants my attention. And as for stores, we pretty much just remove him from the scene of the crime as soon as possible.

I asked one of the day care teachers if tantrums were common. She assured me that it's a phase that most toddlers go through. Experts think that it mostly comes from frustration of not being able to communicate well and not yet understanding concepts like sharing, plus throw in some teething pain and us trying to ween him off his pacifiers. It all adds up to rough times for Biscuit.

But I'm glad it's a common phase, and I hope it doesn't last too long. Or as I told the day care teacher, "He needs to quit with the trantrums, 'cause Mama don't play that!"

New month, new stuff to write

I have so much to write about that I kinda dread getting started!

So I'll come back to our busy weekend and tell you about our trip to the grocery store today.

Biscuit is usually good in the grocery store. He says hey to everybody and wants everybody to stop and talk to him (I have NO idea where he got that from!).

But lately, I've had a hard time getting through certain parts of the store, namely the produce department and the baby aisle.

My Biscuit baby loves bananas. He REALLY loves bananas. So when I walk through the produce department, and he SEES bananas, he GOES bananas. He starts reaching toward them saying, "Eeee. Eeee," which is his way of saying that he wants to eat the bananas ... RIGHT NOW!

It does not go over well when I try to explain to him that we can buy the bananas to eat later, but we can't eat them right now. He can see them in the buggy. He can even almost reach them if he turns sideways in his seat. But they're just out of reach ... literally and figuratively.

I try to distract him with all the other colorful produce, but he just gives me the stink eye.

Then we move through the rest of the store, and he gets distracted by all the people and other stuff to look at.

On lucky days, we don't need anything from the baby aisle. On the unlucky days, we repeat the produce department performance once he sees the apple juice, puffs and all the other snacks he can eat.

How our trip to the store ends usually depends on who's in line with us and what the cashier is like. If the cashier and people in line talk to him, he's fine. He loves making new friends. But if he's stuck in his seat, in line, with nothing to do but wait, it doesn't take long for him to start getting antsy (I have no idea where he gets his sometimes lack of patience, either!).

Of course, sometimes when he's making new friends at the cash register, I get distracted and have to remind myself to pay attention. This happened a few weeks ago at Target, and I ended up stealing a watch.

I was looking for a dressy watch that looks more like a bracelet, and I found exactly what I wanted for $12.99. I was excited about it, so I put it in the buggy. Then I realized that Biscuit still had on his jacket. So I took it off him and dropped it in the buggy.

We did the rest of our shopping and when we got to the register, the cashier was making a big fuss over Biscuit, and so was the lady in line behind us. I was so distracted that I walked out of the store and didn't even know the total of my bill. I just swiped my debit card, punched in my code and waited for the receipt.

When we got to the car, I started loading the bags in the trunk. I noticed my new watch in the bottom of the buggy. Assuming it just fell out of one of the bags, I tossed it in with the other stuff, put Biscuit in his car seat and headed for home.

When we got home, I took the receipt out of my wallet to double-check everything. I usually sort of add up my purchases as I shop, but the total on the receipt was a little less than I thought it would be. I scanned all the items listed and realized that the watch wasn't on the receipt.

I took the watch and never paid for it. Then I realized that it must've been under Biscuit's jacket, and I never put it on the conveyor belt at the checkout counter.

I immediately started to panic. I was a thief! A jewelry thief! A $12.99 jewelry thief, but still, a thief nonetheless.

I called Target and told them what happened. It took several times to explain what had happened. The customer service rep thought I had paid for the watch but it wasn't in my bag. I said, "No. It's just the opposite. I didn't pay for the watch. I never took it out of my buggy. I thought it had fallen out of one of the bags but it hadn't. I never paid for it."

My voice was getting a little more frantic as I tried to explain what had happened. The voice on the other end of the phone was just as calm as she could be. "Just pay for it the next time you come in," she said.

I couldn't believe she was being so nonchalant about it. I guess she figured that if I was calling to admit what happened that there wasn't much reason to be upset.

The next day, I took the watch to the service desk to pay for it. Again, I had a hard time making them understand what happened. And then, once they figured it out, they treated me like a saint. They made a huge deal about how impressed they were that I came back to pay for it.

I know it sounds weird, but I got mad at them. Don't praise me for doing what I should do. I'm not being some selfless hero, I'm simply doing what I'm supposed to do. The odd thing is that when I've polled several people about what they would've done, I've had mixed reaction of people who definitely would've paid and people who say they wouldn't have worried about it.

So anyway, we've had some interesting times in stores lately. Maybe now that basketball is winding down for Jeff, I'll be able to do my shopping by myself, so I can concentrate on what I'm doing!

Where's Dada?

My Biscuit baby just doesn’t understand the phone. He likes to hear people talk on it when we hold it up to his ear, but he usually won’t talk back, and he doesn’t understand that the people are far away.

The most recent occurrence of this was last night. Jeff had a media op at Duke in the evening, so he called about 8:30 to let me know he was heading home. Biscuit usually goes to bed between 8 and 8:30, but he didn’t seem sleepy at all. As soon as he heard the phone ring, he ran over, pointed at it and started saying, “Mmm? Mmm?” like he was asking if he could talk.

So I picked up the phone, held it to Biscuit’s ear then hollered loud enough for Jeff to hear me, “It’s Biscuit. Talk to him.”

As soon as Jeff started talking, Biscuit’s eyes lit up. He started looking around the room to see where Jeff was. Then he dropped the phone and ran into the kitchen calling for Jeff. “Da? Da? Da?

Then he ran into our bedroom, then to the front door, looking for Jeff. Finally, he made his way back to the living room where I was. With Jeff still on the phone, I tried to explain that Dada wasn’t in the house. “He’s still at work, baby. He’s not home yet.”

Biscuit looked at me for a couple of seconds with a serious look on his face. Then he realized. The Daddy Man was nowhere to be found … and he lost it!

He started crying so hard that his cheeks got red and there were big, fat tears streaming down his face. He sat down in the floor and put his hands on his head, still wailing. Then he laid on his back and rolled back and forth, still wailing.

It took that child 15 minutes to stop crying. He heard his Dada’s voice, and he wanted him RIGHT THEN!!!

Biscuit would not go to sleep even though it was well past his bedtime. Finally, Jeff got home about 10:30. He didn’t even have time to set his computer bag down and take off his jacket before Biscuit was standing at his feet with his arms thrown up in the air, asking Jeff to pick him up.

We always like to put on slouchy clothes when we get home from work, but Jeff couldn’t even change his clothes. Biscuit didn’t want to be set down for any reason. Jeff finally sat down in the rocking chair with Biscuit on his lap, and that baby didn’t go to sleep until about 11:15.

I told Jeff that he was not allowed to call our house EVER again!

Sick baby

Poor Biscuit is already on his fourth ear infection, and he's only been on this Earth for not quite 17 months. I had ear problems when I was little, so if it's hereditary, he can blame me.

But if you want to see the most pitiful thing ever, check out my feverish, sickly baby. He didn't want to sleep, but he couldn't stay awake. He didn't want to be held, but he didn't want to be in his bed, either. Check out his flushed cheeks and mussed up hair. He was feeling bad, bad, bad.

Poor little man.

Best Dumpster Dive Ever!

Okay, technically, it wasn't a Dumpster dive. I found it on the curb in a neighborhood coming home from a baby shower. But I have decided that this sliding board that I brought home was well worth the trouble of forcing it into the car.