New quilt

My great aunt told me she was working on a quilt for Biscuit, and guess what we got in the mail today?

This aunt is my (maternal) Granny's sister. She lives a couple of states away, so we only get to see her once or twice a year. This year, we saw her at our family reunion in May. She's the only one of my Granny's siblings who is still with us.

Anyway, she told me she was making the quilt, and in return, she wants me to record her a CD of piano music, including a song I'm not sure I even still have the sheet music for.

But seeing as we got the quilt today, and seeing as Biscuit loved it, and seeing as my aunt held up her end of the deal, I guess I better start hunting down some sheet music!

The quilt has an embroidered nursery rhyme and picture on each block. Biscuit knew and loved most of them, but his favorite was "Knick knack paddy whack give the dog a bone" with a picture of a cute puppy.

Here are a few pictures of Biscuit checking out his quilt:

Firefighter

No surprise here, but Biscuit was pretending to be a firefighter last night.

Jeff was a victim of some sort and called the fire chief on the phone. Biscuit held the fire chief in one hand and his cell phone in the other hand. It didn't seem to matter that the fire chief was a quarter of the size of the phone.

Anyway, for Biscuit and the fire chief to make their rescue, they had to get dressed in their fire equipment. Biscuit was going to put on his fire helmet, but first, he had to put on his air mask (aka a Grasshoppers bucket hat).

Here's the firefighter in action:

Biscuit helps the fire chief take an emergency call.

Biscuit put on his "air tank" otherwise known as a bucket hat.

I'm not sure what the deal is with this fake smile, but I'll be glad when it goes away ... forever!

"Mom, first goes the air tank, then the fire helmet," Biscuit said.

I don't like this game

"Mom, you're an mean witch. Okay?" Biscuit said to me earlier this evening.

"Why do I always have to be the mean witch?" I asked. "Am I mean?"

"No, but you scare me," he said.

"When do I scare you?" I asked.

"All the time," Biscuit said.

I happened to be talking to a friend on the phone when Biscuit was telling me all of this.

"He oughta be scared of me!" I said to my friend. "I have no idea where his little brain comes up with all this stuff."

Biscuit said that Jeff was the prince, and I was the mean witch. I was supposed to lock up Jeff the Prince in a high tower. Then Jeff the Prince was going to call for help, and Biscuit (aka Rescue Cowboy) would jump on his horse and go rescue the prince. Then he would ride his horse to his cowboy firetruck and head back to the bunkhouse fire station.

So Jeff is a prince. Biscuit is a rescue hero. And I'm a mean witch.

I don't like this game!

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

Oh, wait! We have a new game.

"Mom," Biscuit said excitedly. "When you carry mail to the post office, and it doesn't have enough stamps on it, it goes in the 'do not deliver' basket."

"Really?" I said, trying to sound surprised at the interesting fact I had just learned.

"Yes," Biscuit said. "And if you have enough stamps on your mail, it goes into a delivery truck and gets taken wherever it's supposed to go."

"Wow," I said.

"And Mom," Biscuit said. "You're a person who doesn't have enough stamps."

I can't win for losing tonight!

To stroll or not to stroll

A couple of people commented on Biscuit being in a stroller in the photo I posted yesterday. And to those who question a 3-year-old in a stroller, I say, "Hey, it works for us."

Since I've been a parent, there have been times when I questioned something I was doing because it wasn't common wisdom or my parent-friends didn't do it that way or I saw an article or blog post that said I should do it differently.

I don't know if it's because I'm getting older or if it's because I've been a parent for a few years now, but when it comes to Biscuit, I am trying really hard to trust my gut and do what I think is right for him despite differing opinions. And I don't mean just about the big stuff. Believe it or not, the big decisions seem to be easier than the everyday little decisions.

Like: Is it okay if Biscuit watches more TV tonight than usual? Should Biscuit have eaten more for dinner? Should I push him to eat more or trust what his belly is telling him? Do I chance buying fall clothes in his current size at the consignment sales or wait to see if he hits a growth spurt and just shop at regular stores? When Biscuit has a sore throat but no fever, is it sinus drainage or should we take him to the doctor?

All the little nagging questions are what will really drive you crazy.

Like a bit of doubt about whether a 3-year-old is too old for a stroller.

I love that stroller. Well, I love that stroller now. It wasn't my bestest friend when we first started using it. Remember this?

Anyway, Biscuit is still small enough that he gets tired when we do a lot of walking. Figuring that he takes about three steps to every one of mine and Jeff's, I can see how he would be worn out at some of the bigger car shows and other places we go. And even though Biscuit is still small for his age, he weighs 31 pounds. Jeff gives him "neck rides" a lot of times, but when you spend all day out and about, Jeff's neck gets tired, too. And there's no way I can tote that little sack of taters around for any long amount of time.

Plus, Biscuit is a hard-core nap-taker. If it gets to a certain point in the afternoon, I don't care where we are or what is going on, that boy is going to sleep. And that fancy stroller? It has a reclining seat.

Anyway, my point is that despite Biscuit's age, the stroller works for us, and I'm glad that at this point in my life, I can try to do what's best for my son without worrying too much about whether it fits into someone else's parenting mold.

Who? What? When? Where? Why? Why? Why?

I wish I had the patience to keep a tally for one day of the questions my son asks me. Actually, I'm not sure I can count that high. I think I might need a calculator just to count up the first few hours!

Don't get me wrong. I love that Biscuit loves to learn. He soaks in new information like his brain is a sponge. I wish we all could learn like that, even as adults. 

But sometimes, the questions get to be too much. And I have to count in my head to keep from saying, "Don't. Ask. Me. Another. Single. Question!!!!!"

This evening, we were out and about, and we saw an airplane flying toward the airport.

"Mom, where is that plane going?" Biscuit asked.

"It looks like it's heading toward the airport," I said.

"How does the airport work, Mom?" Biscuit asked.

"Well, people drive their cars to the airport and park. Then they get on planes and fly to wherever they want to go," I explained. "When they're done with their trip, they fly from a different airport back to our airport, get in their cars and drive back home."

"Who's on that airplane, Mom?" Biscuit asked.

"I don't know, baby," I said. "I guess it's people going on vacation or maybe traveling for their job."

"Do people drive their cars to the airport like we drove our car and that van?" Biscuit asked.

"What van?" I asked.

"That van that Dad drove, and we followed him in our car. Remember?" Biscuit asked.

The event Biscuit is talking about happened last June. A couple of our friends took a trip to New Orleans, and since we live so close to the airport, we picked up their van and brought it back to our house for the week they were gone. It kept them from having to pay for parking all week. 

And Biscuit remembers it well enough to know that the van belonged to a friend of mine and that the van sat at our house for a while, then when we took it back to the airport, Jeff drove the van, and I drove Biscuit and me in our car. And he remembered it well enough to ask me questions about it!

The questions that make me the craziest are the ones that don't really have an answer. But even though I know there's not a good answer, I don't want Biscuit to think I'm avoiding his question or ignoring him. So I feel the need to answer him. 

Plus, if I didn't come up with some answer, he'll just keep asking the question, changing the phrasing of the words every few times.

"Mom, what kind of truck is that?" Biscuit asked a few days ago.

"It's a landscaping truck," I said. "The guys driving the truck do work in people's yards."

"Do they have equipment on their truck, Mom?" Biscuit asked.

"Yes," I answered. "They have lawnmowers, weed eaters, shovels and other tools."

"Why do they have that stuff and other tools, Mom?" Biscuit asked.

"Because that's what they need to do their job," I said.

"Why do they need that stuff to do their job, Mom?" Biscuit said.

And this is the point that I start praying for a firetruck or police car to come screaming down the street.

"Those are the tools they need to do their work," I said.

"Why do they do that work, Mom?" Biscuit asked.

"It's their job to do that work," I said.

"But why do they do that work?" Biscuit asked.

"I don't know, baby," I said, with more than a bit of frustration in my voice, hoping that the last red light before day care is a really short one. "I guess that's just the kind of job they like to do. Or maybe they're just really good at that job." 

"Why are they good at that job, Mom?" Biscuit asked.

"Hey, look!" I said. "There's a dump truck. I wonder what he's carrying?"

I hate to admit that I completely changed the subject on him, but I was at the end of my knowledge about landscapers.

Plus, by that point, there was time for about three more questions before we pulled into the day care parking lot. And I figured I knew enough about dump trucks for three more questions.

Like I said, I'm really glad Biscuit loves to learn, but one day he's going to ask me a question, and I'm just going to start screaming and run away!

Car show

Jeff, Biscuit and I headed over to our local farmers' market for a car show today.

We almost talked ourselves out of going this morning because we knew it was going to be hot. Jeff and I had both had busy weeks at work. And there were so many things that needed doing around the house (i.e. laundry, cleaning, yard work, etc.).

So I asked Biscuit if he wanted to go see the cars at the car show.

"Will they have firetrucks?" Biscuit asked.

"No," I said. "There won't be firetrucks. It'll just be pretty cars like Dad's Barracuda."

"Will there be red cars?" Biscuit asked.

"I'm sure there will be red cars there," I said.

"Then let's go," Biscuit said.

Since the Barracuda isn't equipped to handle a modern car seat, Biscuit and I have to take a separate car. Biscuit asked me about a thousand questions on the way to the farmers' market.

We tracked Jeff down once we got to the show, then we started looking around at the other cars.

 

 A lot of people set up those awning tents behind their cars to create some shade for themselves. You can even catch a few people napping in stretched out lawn chairs behind their cars. We usually spend most of our time checking out our competition.

Jeff and I always trade notes about cars as we walk around, and Biscuit has picked up on some of the lingo.

"Mom," Biscuit said, sounding a little excited. "Check out those door handles. Those are cool! See them?"

Then a little while later, he found some headlights he liked. "Mom, those headlights are shaped cool."

Next, we'll teach him how to spot wavy paint and recognize pitted chrome.

I laughed as we were leaving and told Jeff, "Well, we came to the farmers' market and didn't see a single vegetable or piece of fruit." But we left with a prize, and that was good enough.

Here are some pictures: 

Cars had to be at least 25 years old. They also had to be production cars. No customs.

This is a Graham. I had never even heard of the Graham namebrand.

These are the door handles Biscuit liked.

We had a car like these when I was a kid. Ours was red with a bench seat in the back. When Daddy would take curves, we'd slide from one side of that back seat to the other (no seat belt laws back then).

These were the cool-shaped headlights Biscuit liked.

My Granny went on her first date in a rumble seat. See the round plates (one on the bumper and one on the fender) they used as steps to get in? Also, I remember being shocked that Granny's first date wasn't Grandaddy.

We found plenty of red cars for Biscuit to look at.

Biscuit wanted to know why that little boy was standing against that car. I took him over to show him it was a doll, and then he wanted to know why the doll had a wrench in his back pocket. That boy is full of questions.

Jeff won first place in his category. The plaque has a picture and an in remembrance note about a member of the hosting car club who died earlier this year.

We got Biscuit dressed this morning, and when I told him to go get his shoes, these are the ones he brought back. He grabbed his favorite hat on the way out the door, too.

Accomplishments

From the time babies arrive, we track all their accomplishments. 

It starts in the nursery at the hospital when they grade babies with an Apgar score. Named after Dr. Virginia Apgar, the score is based on all the signs of a healthy baby. Dr. Apgar's name even became the acronym for what the nurses look for:

Appearance (skin color)

Pulse (heart rate)

Grimace (reflex irritability)

Activity (muscle tone)

Respiration
 

Biscuit scored very well when he was born, thank you very much.

Then after you get them home, you can't wait to see that first smile. 

Then one day, you're changing a diaper, and he starts rocking back and forth, and next thing you know, he's flipped himself over.

Well, that's not actually how it happened with Biscuit. We were at the doctor's office for a checkup, and we had Biscuit lying up on the table. As we were talking and cooing with him, he flipped right over. The doctor was asking us all kinds of questions, and he said, "Has he rolled over?" And we said, "Yes. He just did." And the doctor said, "When did he start?" And we laughed and said, "No, you don't understand. He JUST did it."

Then they sit up. Then they crawl.

And next thing you know, he's 11 months old, and you get video of him strolling down the hall.

All of these things are huge accomplishments, but at a certain point, you realize that the biggies are all taken care of. He can eat by himself, and go to the bathroom by himself, and put on and take off his clothes by himself.

But there are some smaller tasks that Biscuit has mastered lately that are making my life easier.

 Carrying plates and cups to the sink. When Biscuit is done with dinner or a snack, he can get up from wherever he was eating, carry his dishes into the kitchen, and put them in the sink. Granted, when he puts the dishes in the sink, it's more like dropping them in, but seeing as he doesn't eat or drink from anything breakable, that's perfectly fine with me.

Operating the remote control. Unlike most kids I've known, Biscuit was never really interested in the TV remote control. Maybe he had enough toys with buttons to push that the remote didn't hold any appeal for him. But that means Jeff and I have to stop what we're doing to turn on the TV.

We've taught Biscuit to ask nicely if he wants to watch TV, but he's got a bad habit of asking at the most inopportune times. He's asked when I was in the shower. He's asked when I was cooking. He's asked when I was mopping the bathroom floor. He's asked me when I was in the bathroom.

So I finally decided last weekend that I would teach him how to turn the TV on and off and how to turn it to his channel. He only gets to watch one channel, so he didn't have much to learn. The green button is off and on. Then push 5, then push 4. 

I forgot to tell Jeff that I had taught Biscuit this, so last weekend when Biscuit asked to watch cartoons, I said yes and stayed seated in my rocking chair. Jeff got up and went into the bedroom and was quite surprised to find Biscuit, remote in hand, pushing 5 then 4. Biscuit was very proud to tell Jeff what he could do.

WASHING HIS OWN HANDS!!!!! This one is worthy of all caps and several exclamation points. This one means that while I'm cooking dinner, I can yell, "Biscuit, wash your hands for dinner!" and he can do it. Or more importantly, I don't have to go to the bathroom every time he does. (Well, I do still have to take care of paperwork for the more serious bathroom trips.) 

We have this great little silicone gadget that fits over the end of the faucet that basically provides a ramp for the water, so it flows out closer to Biscuit. He has to stand on his tallest tippy-toes on top of a step stool to reach the water knob, but since the knob is shaped like an X, he can get his little fingers wrapped around it.

We have a pump dispenser for the soap, so that's easy to operate. And we've given Biscuit instruction on washing the fronts and backs of his hands, as well as between his fingers. All in all, he does a pretty good job.

Sadly, Biscuit tackling these tasks means he just keeps growing up and doesn't need me as much. But at the same time, these accomplishments are signs of independence for Biscuit. And that makes me very proud of him.

Mustang Biscuit

 A post from The Daddy Man:

I'm Biscuit's favorite. He told me so. Then he told his mother so.

That boy has no idea the implications of his choice in favorites.

I'm convinced that it's more about my car than anything else. I drive a Mustang that is smaller than Kimmy's Magnum. When Biscuit is in his car seat in my car, he sits higher, and he has a better field of vision.

He loves to look around, and he loves to people-watch about as much as Kimmy does. So when he's sitting in my car, he can see what's going on.

The other reason is completely my fault. I let him mess with all the knobs and levers in my car. He climbs into the driver's seat every chance he gets and pretends he's driving ... usually it's a firetruck or a racecar.

My car only has two doors. That means that we have to move the passenger seat forward for Biscuit to get in. That's another lever to pull and another thing to move.

And with my car being smaller, it feels to Biscuit like we're going faster than we actually are. I think my son is already a speed demon.

So it's true. Biscuit loves me for my car. And I'm okay with that.

But when he falls down or gets upset or feels sick, I'm no longer his favorite. His Mama is the one he'll always run to first.

Out of the mouth of my babe

Sorry if you're tired of reading "Out of the mouth of my babe" posts, but dude has been saying some fun stuff lately!

A few things Biscuit has been saying:

Grandparents: Biscuit and I were on the way to day care, and out of nowhere, he started talking about my parents.

"Mom, um, Grandmama is my abuela," Biscuit said. "Abeula" is Spanish for grandmother.

"Yes, she is," I said. "And what is Papa?"

He shrugged his shoulders with his hands out and said, "Papa is just Papa," Biscuit said.

"Isn't Papa your abuelo?" I asked him.

"No, Mom," Biscuit said, laughing. "He's just Papa. And Grandmama and Papa are married. And they love each other."

Lego creation: Biscuit had built some odd-looking little contraption out of his Lego blocks. With his creation in his hand, he came running over to me all excited.

"Mom, this is my flying Batman-bo-beel (translation: flying Batman-Mobile). It has wheels and wings and two Batmans. It will fly, and it will roll. It's cooooool, Mom."

I could tell he was really proud, so I made an appropriate fuss. Although I must say, I think for the time being that Biscuit is an abstract artist. I couldn't really make out anything remotely resembling a Batmobile. But hey, if it makes him proud, who am I to question it?

Reasoning skills: Jeff and I are amazed sometimes at explanations and situations Biscuit comes up with. He's really good at taking things he's learned and applying them to other situations. The other night, he came up with a pretty logical solution to getting his fire chief and his car out of a ditch.

"Mom, the fire chief's car is stuck in a ditch," Biscuit said. "I'm going to call Mater to come from his home in Radiator Springs to pull the chief car out of the ditch. 'Cause Mater is a tow truck, and that's what tow trucks do." Mater, aka Tow-mater, is from the movie "Cars."

"What will you do if Mater can't get him out?" I asked.

"Um, if that doesn't work, I'll call the pumper fire truck to come out and spray lots of water in the ditch," Biscuit said. "Then, when the ditch is full of water, the chief car will float right out."

There are some grownups who couldn't reach that logic, so we were pretty impressed with our boy.

The county line

Jeff, Biscuit, my niece and I were on the way home from the baseball game last weekend, and as we crossed over the county line, I giggled.

"I know it's crazy, but 10 years later, I still get the flutters when I pass the county line sign," I said.

Jeff smiled because he knew exactly what I was talking about. And to tell the truth, I had forgotten that my niece was in the car.

"Aunt Kim, what are you giggling about?" my niece asked.

Uh-oh. Now I had to tell her the story.

"Well, this is the story of how Uncle Jeff and I started officially dating," I said.

"Cool," my niece said.

It had never occurred to me that she didn't know that story and many others about Jeff and me. She was still a tiny little thing when we started dating.

"Well," I said. "Uncle Jeff and I used to work at night, from 5 p.m. to 1 a.m. A lot of nights when we'd get off work, a bunch of us would swap off going to each other's houses to watch movies. Uncle Jeff and I had been friends ever since he started working at the paper, but I was starting to think about wanting him to be more than a friend."

"I decided that I needed to tell him how I felt. It was scary, though, because I didn't think he felt the same way about me. So I practiced a speech in my head and decided that I'd tell him exactly what had been on my mind."

"When I was working those late hours, I would leave after work and drive to Grandmama and Papa's house in the middle of the night. I would get to their house in time to eat breakfast with them, then they would go to work, and I would go to bed. When they got home from work, I'd be up and dressed so we could spend the evening together. I had Wednesdays and Thursdays as my days off, so Friday afternoon, I would drive back and go straight to work. I know some people would think that was crazy, but that way, I never got off my regular schedule."

"Anyway, we were at our friend's house watching a movie one Tuesday night. My plan was to leave after the movie and drive to Grandmama and Papa's house for my days off. So I decided that I was going to tell Uncle Jeff how I felt, then when he told me he just wanted to be friends, which is what I totally expected him to do, I could drive to Grandmama's house, and she could spend the weekend making me feel better."

"After the movie was over, Uncle Jeff walked me to my car. He could tell something was bothering me, so he asked me what was wrong. I couldn't look him in the face, so I remember looking at the asphalt parking lot. The way the street light was shining down, the asphalt almost looked sparkly. It's weird how you remember little details like that."

"Uncle Jeff said, 'Are you okay?' and I said, 'Not really.'" He asked me what was going on, and I started in on the speech I had practiced. I said, 'I need to tell you something, and I just want you to remember that I'm putting our friendship and my dignity on the line.'"

"So I told him that I enjoyed spending time with him as a friend, but that lately, I had been feeling something more. Then I told him I loved him. When I had practiced my speech, I had thought he would say something like 'that's nice, but I just see you as a friend.' But instead, he said he loved me, too."

"I just stared at him. I had no idea what to say because that wasn't at all what I was expecting to hear from him."

"After we talked for a while, we hugged, and I got in my car. Then I drove 2 1/2 hours to Grandmama's house. I really wanted to stay here and talk to Uncle Jeff some more, but it was the middle of the night, and Grandmama was expecting me to be at her house in time for breakfast."

"I spent the weekend with Grandmama and Papa, but I didn't tell them about Uncle Jeff. I was still trying to figure out what was going to happen with us."

"I left Friday to head to work, and I was completely distracted for the entire trip. The closer I got, the more nervous I got. I looked up and saw the sign at the county line, and I got all kinds of butterflies in my belly. Now, every time I see a sign with the county name on it, I still feel butterflies and get giggly."

"Of course, I got to work that night, and I was scared to death. Uncle Jeff and I hadn't talked since that night, and I was worried he might have changed his mind about what he said or that I had somehow just imagined the whole thing. But not long after I turned on my computer, I got a message from Uncle Jeff saying, 'Hey. How was your trip? Want to get dinner?' I knew then that everything would be fine."

"It's funny, too, because when we started telling our friends that we were going to start dating, a lot of them said things like, 'Well, duh!' or 'It's about time.' Apparently, everybody but us could see that there was something more than friendship between us. It just took Uncle Jeff and me longer to figure it out."

My niece seemed to really enjoy hearing that story. She even mentioned it a couple of times during the weekend. That got me to thinking that we'd get to tell these stories to Biscuit someday, too. And depending on his age, I guess he'll either think it's a cool story or he'll say something like, "Eeeewwww, Mom!"

Out of the mouth of my babe

A few things Biscuit has been saying lately:

 

5th Disease: Biscuit still has some red splotches on his face and arms because of the 5th Disease. And even though he hasn't acted like he's felt bad, I still worry about him.

"Are you doing okay?" I asked him.

 "Yeah, Mom. I feel very much good," Biscuit said.

I hope that continues to be his answer because I feel like until every last splotch is gone, I'm gonna keep asking.

Very observant: I was watching a sitcom the other night, and the characters were taking part in a quiz bowl. Biscuit walked into the living room, and watched a couple of minutes of the show. He saw the characters hitting the buzzers and answering questions.

"Hey, Mom. It's like 'Jeopardy'," Biscuit said.


"Yes, it kind of is," I said. Not much gets by that boy.

Say that three times fast: Biscuit and I were playing in the living room this afternoon. I had been Little Red Riding Hood, Calamity Jane, the fire department dispatcher and the pet food store man. Biscuit had taken on assorted roles as well, but I think this one was my favorite.

"Mom, I'm Ginger The Big Brother Dog That Yes Can Talk," Biscuit said.

 

Using his resources: "Mom, did you lose the mote control for the TV?" Biscuit asked.

"Yes, I did," I told him. "I misplaced the remote control."

Biscuit picked up his walkie-talkie (or hawkie-talkie as he calls it), and said, "This is Firefighter Ronnie Gage. Hey, mote control. Where are you? Over."

He nodded his head like someone was talking to him on the other end, then he said, "Don't worry, Mom. I'm calling for backup. We'll find it."

"You're a good helper, Firefighter Ronnie Gage," I said.

Out of the mouth of my babe

Here are a few things Biscuit has been saying lately:

Abracadabra: Jeff threw a few magazine pages onto the campfire when we were in the mountains, and for some reason, Biscuit hasn't forgotten it. 

Every time I pick up a magazine in front of him, he holds his hands up in front of him and says, "Dad threw those pages on that fire and POOF! They disappeared!" And he flips his hands like he's just done some magic.

He's the best: We were getting ready to leave this morning, and I told Biscuit to get whatever toys he wanted to take. (He still loves to have a car or horse in each hand when we leave the house.)

"Mom," Biscuit said. "I want Dad to take me to day care."

"Okay," I said. "Is there any particular reason you don't want to go with me?"

"Yeah," Biscuit said. "Dad is my favorite."

"You don't love me anymore?" I teased Biscuit.

"I love you, Mom," Biscuit said. "But Dad is my favorite."

Ready, set, go: Jeff and Biscuit race Biscuit's little cars all the time. They line up the cars, then one of them will say, "Racers start your engines!"

The other night, Biscuit was wearing his cowboy boots and his cowboy hat in the living room. 

"Mom, we're gonna have a horse race," Biscuit said as he grabbed his stick horse Jake and jumped straddle of it. "You know what you say next, Mom?"

"What?" I asked him.

"HORSES START YOUR NAYS!" Biscuit yelled. "That's how they start their engines, Mom."

Family night

Poor Biscuit's cheeks are all red and splotchy, but every time I ask him how he's feeling, he says, "I'm good, Mom." I ask him if anything hurts, and he says, "Nope. I'm fine." He's also not contagious anymore, so when I found out that Jeff had to go to a work event this evening, Biscuit and I headed to our favorite store and walked around for a while. 

We strolled through the clothes. Then we made our way over to the toy department where Biscuit got to "press" buttons on two toys.

I put "press" in quotes is because that's one of the non-Southern things my boy says. In the South, we "mash" buttons; we don't "press" them.

Anyway, we finished up in toys and headed over to get some cereal and apple juice. We stopped by the pharmacy for Jeff's decongestant. Biscuit struck up a conversation with the pharmacist and got a "lollipop." (I grew up calling them "suckers.")

Jeff got home shortly after Biscuit and I did. We made sandwiches for dinner, then it was play time. We put together an alphabet puzzle. Then we played Spanish bingo (it's a cute game where you call out Spanish words and phrases, like dog, cat, apple, table, boy, flower, something brown, something oval, etc., instead of numbers). Then we played with Play-Doh and cookie cutters.

It was a nice evening just to hang out together.

Check out my poor boy:

Two down and hopefully none to go

Biscuit has 5th Disease. I am completely confused because we thought he had 5th Disease the week before I got it. Apparently, that was not the case.

When I got Biscuit out of the tub last night, I noticed a rash on his shoulder and neck. I figured something had irritated his skin, so I put hydrocortisone on it. 

This morning, when I got Biscuit out of bed, I noticed that the rash had spread to one side of his face. He's had a scratchy throat for a couple of days, but he hasn't had a fever, and he hasn't acted like he felt sick.

I wanted some advice, so I called the nurse-on-call at Biscuit's pediatrician's office, still having no thought that it could be 5th Disease. I explained the symptoms, and she was concerned that he might have strep throat. I've heard of people having rashes when they had strep throat, so when she said we should make an appointment, we did. The office was completely booked up today, so the first appointment we could get was at 6 p.m.

I took Biscuit to day care and explained what was going on. Their main concern was whether he had a fever or not. When I told them he didn't, they said it was fine to leave him.

But then they called this afternoon to tell me that the rash had spread to the other side of his face and that I needed to come pick him up. I can't blame them for calling. Without knowing what was wrong with him, there was no way to tell if he was contagious or not.

Jeff and I worked it out so that I would pick up Biscuit and take him home while Jeff would finish out his work day. Then Jeff would meet Biscuit and me at the doctor's office for the appointment. Then Jeff would take Biscuit home, and I would go back to work to finish up what I had to leave this afternoon.

It probably sounds complicated, but I'm just really thankful that our jobs allow enough flexibility to work around these situations.

As Biscuit and I were getting ready to leave the house, I yelled for him to grab his shoes and bring them to the living room. He was wearing khaki shorts and a red T-shirt. Want to know which shoes he came back with? His tan and camouflage cowboy boots. 

I considered making him change into sandals or tennis shoes, but he was clearly pleased with his shoe selection. And then, just to complete the look, he grabbed his red cowboy hat on the way out the door.

His outfit, plus the fact that when the nurse called him, he galloped all the way back to the examination room, made him a big hit at the doctor's office.

On the way to the office, Biscuit saw a big white airplane with a red tail. (We live near the airport.)

"Mom, when we get to the doctor's office, do you think the doctor would like to know that I saw a big ol' airplane that was white on the front and red on the back?" Biscuit asked.

"I bet the doctor would like to know that," I said. "You be sure to tell her when we get there." And of course I was thinking he wouldn't remember to tell her.

But he did, and she played along.

"Of COURSE I'm excited to hear that you saw a plane like that," she said. "That's really cool."

Poor Biscuit's face looks like he's been slapped around a bit. It's all red and splotchy on both sides. But since 5th Disease is a virus, there's nothing we can do for him.

He's acting fine and says he doesn't hurt anywhere, so we just have to wait for it to move out of his little body. Now we're just praying that Jeff doesn't get it.

Old is new again

A post from The Daddy Man:

I was researching a story on the Internet recently. I needed to find an obscure autograph-model glove for a detail in the story. And up popped 10 pages of vintage baseball gloves on eBay.

Just out of curiosity, I scrolled through the 10 pages to see which players had autograph-model gloves. That's when I came across a 1970s Wilson youth model, all-leather baseball glove with George Brett's name on it. 

George Brett was one of my favorite players to watch when I was growing up (even though he was probably the King of all Yankee Killers, and I'm a Yankees fan). I liked watching him play because he did everything well. And he had a lot of hustle.

That glove brought back some good memories for me because I had high school teammates who had the adult-size model of that same glove. And I really liked that it was all leather. Those are harder to find these days.

So when I noticed that the Buy It Now price was only $5 and some change, I couldn't resist.

Apparently, it was previously owned by a kid named Cody. I know this because the faded letters of Cody's name are written in Sharpie marker across the fingers in the glove.

No matter, though. It will serve its purpose. My boy now has a genu-wine antique baseball glove to play with. Now if he will just decide whether he wants to catch right-handed or left-handed.

A good decision

We gave my niece the choice last night of going to a short-track car race or a minor league baseball game. She enjoys baseball and racing, so I knew either event would be okay with her.

What I didn't know was that she had never been to a professional baseball game, so that's what she chose.

Our local minor league team was out of town this weekend, so we decided to drive one town over (about 40 minutes away) for a game with a different team. We had some rain on the way to the game, but we figured as often as summer storms move in and out around these parts, that we should be fine by the time the game started.

None of us had been to this particular ball field before, so we just tried to follow everybody else for parking. But by the time we found a spot and got out of the car, we didn't see any other people around. So we followed a sidewalk toward the field.

Little did we know, we had gone completely the wrong way. The reason we didn't see anyone by the time we got out of our car is because they all got out and headed left toward the ticket booth. The ticket booth that was located in the outfield. IN THE OUTFIELD. Who has ever heard of a box office in the outfield?!?

Unfortunately, we didn't figure this out until we were standing at an "employees only" door on the opposite side of the field. We finally found someone who worked at the field and asked him where we could get tickets. He gave us the bad news that we had to walk all the way around the outside of the stadium. 

Oh, did I mention that it was mostly uphill, and it was 90 degrees?

We finally got our tickets, then we had to walk all the way back to the opposite side of the field because our seats were near third base.

We never got rained on, but during the third inning, Jeff told me niece she had made a good choice. He pointed at the rumbling sky and said, "See those nasty-looking clouds and that lightning over there? Well, that's about where the racetrack is, so choosing baseball over racing was a good thing tonight."

Here are a couple of pictures of Jeff and Biscuit at the game and several photos of the ever-changing sky while we were there.

Pool party

My niece came to our house for the weekend. She lives about 2 1/2 hours away from us, so we met her parents halfway between our house and theirs to pick her up Friday morning.

It's funny, but my niece and Biscuit look more like each other than my niece and her brother and sister. She has dark blonde hair and blue eyes just like Biscuit.

So far, my niece and I have been to the movies. We all went out for dinner then frozen yogurt last night. We're planning to go to a ballgame tonight. Then we'll make some kind of plan for getting her home Sunday.

But this morning, I took my niece and Biscuit to a really nice pool near our house.

They have a regular pool with a slide and a diving board. They have a sprayground with a bunch of water sprayers and a big drain in the middle. There's no standing water, so anybody can go in there. Then there's a zero-entry kiddie pool. The front half has some water sprayers, then there's a rope separating the front from the deeper back part. It's 3 1/2 feet deep.

All worries that my boy inherited my fear of water were quickly erased this morning. He walked straight into the pool, all the way to the rope, then asked my niece if she would lift him over the rope so he could go deeper.

She caught him at the bottom of the slide a few times. Then she pulled him around the pool as he "swam." He flung his arms and kicked his feet, and my niece was really surprised at how comfortable he seemed.

I called Jeff and told him we need to get the boy some swimming lesson as soon as possible. 

Jeff isn't afraid of the water, but when he was a kid, he had a choice of swimming lessons or playing baseball. Anybody who knows Jeff knows that decision was a no-brainer. So although he can swim some, he said he'd rather have someone teach Biscuit how to do it right. And I agree.

But from what I saw this morning, it shouldn't take much at all to get him swimming like a fish.

Here are a few pictures from the morning:

Biscuit speaks

Most days, I love to hear Biscuit talk. (Of course, some days I feel like if he says "Mom" or asks "why" one more time, I might lose my mind.)

Ever since Biscuit has been talking (and that's been a while now), we've really enjoyed hearing his version of how words can sound. By the time he was just over a year old, he could say "Mama," "Dada," "bye" and "uh-oh." After another few months, he was saying "ball," "car," "baby," "dog" and "duck."

Pretty soon, we noticed that Biscuit was sounding more like me than Jeff.

Jeff says "dahg," but I say "dawg." Jeff says "bahl," but I say "bawl."

Once Biscuit got bigger, his speech started to sound more like the other kids at day care. And they sound more like Jeff than me. I'm fine with that because people who "ain't from around here" often treat Southerners like they're stupid, just because their speech is different. More than once in my lifetime, I've wanted to set aside the manners my Mama taught me and share some of the not-nice words I know with people who make assumptions based on such superficial things.


Anyway, my brother's kids definitely have Southern accents. They sound exactly like I did when I was a kid. Of course, they're growing up where I grew up, so I wouldn't expect any different.


But what was really fascinating to me recently was that for a week or so after our family trip, Biscuit sounded exactly like them. Instead of applesauce, he would ask for apple-sawce. The syllables of his words got longer and more drawn out. He also started calling me "Mama."


His new-found Southern accent was soon gone. Now, he's back to sounding more like Jeff and his day care friends.


Biscuit doesn't meet any strangers. He'll have a conversation with almost anybody. So however Biscuit ends up sounding, I just hope he keeps talking.