Weekend at home

We haven't left our house since Friday evening. And we are perfectly fine with that.

Jeff has a cold and hasn't felt well, so he didn't feel like doing anything. I have this coming week off from work, so I didn't feel pressed to do any shopping or errands. And Biscuit, well, Biscuit was fine with whatever. He was just happy when he realized it was Saturday and that means that he stays with Jeff and me all day.

I did get a little productive today. I cleaned out the cabinets in my kitchen. I've been meaning to do it for a while, but I never seem to have the time. Plus, I got two new pots and some other stuff for Christmas, and instead of packing it in on top of the stuff I already have, I figured I'd start fresh.

I'm definitely not a hoarder. I do sometimes hate to get rid of things I like, but sometimes even your favorite bowl gets chips in it. And as hard as it is to let go, at that point, it's time.

So I was a little surprised to find a plastic cup with a lid from a restaurant we like at the beach. I don't usually  keep stuff like that. As I pulled it out of the cabinet, I realized it wasn't empty.

Check out what was inside:

I guess I put them in there as a hiding place when we were trying to wean Biscuit off of them.

Jeff and I had a good laugh about them, and Biscuit wanted to know all about them. I told him that he used to call them "pa-pires." And he thought that was pretty funny.

While I was getting the kitchen sorted, something pretty big was going down on the couch. I only heard part of the story, but it was something about a big brush fire, and a puppy and a horse were stuck up on the mountain and couldn't get down. The airplane came over and dumped water on the fire, but it didn't put out all the flames. Backup firefighters were called in, and even the dalmation showed up. 

Although, now that I look at the picture, I'm not sure what the deal is with the cowboy hat.

The firefighters were working well together. Biscuit said they were "doing teamwork."

A snake story

This is a favorite story of mine. It includes a creepy creature, a very large dose of fear, some words I shouldn't have said and a very understanding Grandmother.

I shared it with a co-worker the other day. I don't even remember how we got on the topic of snakes, but I showed her the picture below and told her the story below.

This beauty's name is Aquabella. She's a python, and she was very gentle.

My Daddy's Mama lived right down the road from us. Actually, she lived at the end of our road.

To get to her house, you turn onto a small dirt road off of a bigger dirt road off of a secondary paved road. Our small dirt road ended in Granny's front yard. So even though her house was a half a mile away from ours, my brother and I were always free to walk or ride our bikes to her house because there wasn't any traffic on that road. Anyone out that far knew where they were going. You got to our house and Granny's house on purpose.

Needless to say, there were lots and lots of trees where I grew up. And one year, my parents and my Granny decided to sell the timber on their land to a paper company. They came in and cut all the trees they could use and replaced them with rows and rows and rows of pine trees. The company also gave us bluebird houses with report cards. They wanted to see how their deforesting and replanting affected the birds. 

Each bluebird house had a flip-top lid with a hole drilled in the front and was mounted on a metal pole. We kept track of when birds were living in the houses, when they laid eggs and when the little birds left. Then we mailed in the postcards to the paper company.

One day, I was at my Granny's house. I was in my early teens, and by then, I was a little bit taller than Granny. I'm only 5'3" if that gives you any idea about Granny's stature.

She asked me if I would check on her bluebirds because she was too short to look over into the box. Somebody had checked it a few days before and told her there were eggs inside.

I went out to the box and tapped the side of it. If the mama bird was inside, this would be her cue to leave for a few minutes. No mama bird came out, so I tapped the box again, just to make sure. No bird.

I reached up and flipped the latch on the top of the box and lifted the lid. I took a deep breath, then blew it out. Granny always told us not to breathe inside the box. I had always heard that if you did, the mama bird wouldn't come back to the babies. I don't know if that's true or not, but I never took any chances.

So I blew out my breath, stood on my tiptoes and peeped over into the top of the box.

A black chicken snake popped up and just about grabbed my nose!

I staggered back and muttered a few words that my Granny had never heard me say. And it's amazing to me now that saying those words in front of her freaked me out just about as much as having a snake jump up in my face.

Granny was just as calm as she could be. She said, "The snake must have got inside and ate the eggs. Then he was too fat to get back out. Go inside and call your Daddy. He'll come take care of him."

I did as I was told, and Daddy did the dirty work.

Granny never mentioned my sailor's mouth to my Daddy. I guess she figured that if a snake jumped in your face, you deserved a break.

Granny always seemed unflappable. She was a steady woman who had a strong faith.

And I have to say that my faith was boosted that day, too. It wouldn't have killed me if that snake had bitten me, but being spared the pain of a bite was more than fine by me.

Out of the mouth of my babe

A few things Biscuit has said lately:


Telling time: This was a recent conversation between Jeff and me that Biscuit jumped into.

Jeff to me: When is Biscuit due for more medicine?

Biscuit: 20 minutes.

Jeff: Boy, I didn't know you could tell time.

Biscuit: Actually, it's 11 minutes.



Chain of command: I saw one of our neighbors early in the week, and she shared a story with me that Jeff forgot to mention.

Our neighbors' son and daughter-in-law went to Italy, and our neighbors were keeping the grandkids. They asked the kids where they wanted to go for dinner, and the kids wanted pizza.

I was working late, so Jeff and Biscuit were on their own. And it just so happens that Biscuit had asked for pizza, too.

Our neighbors stopped by Jeff and Biscuit's table to talk to them, but Biscuit was busy handling a situation.

I was shocked when our neighbor told me what happened.

This particular restaurant has paper activity placemats and crayons for kids. But the pack of crayons they gave Biscuit had green and yellow, and he wanted red and blue.

So when the server came over, Biscuit asked if they had more red crayons. The server told Biscuit they were out of red crayons.

Then Biscuit said, "Who is your boss? Can you tell him to buy more red crayons?"

As our neighbor told me this story, my mouth flew open! I was shocked!

First of all, I think the situation should've been a little more serious before he asked for somebody's boss. And secondly, why did he just assume that the server's boss was a man?!? I didn't know whether to be offended more by his bad manners or by his chauvinism.


Business man: Biscuit set up a toy store on the couch the other night. He laid out a bunch of toys, then told Jeff and me that we needed to go shopping.

Jeff saw a firetruck he liked. "How much is that firetruck?" he asked Biscuit.

"It's $100," Biscuit said.

"That kind of expensive," Jeff said. "What if I give you $50?"

"Then I'll take my truck back," Biscuit said.


Cool clothes: I was asking Biscuit about his day at day care, and he said he played with his friends.

"Which friends?" I asked.

"Well," Biscuit said. "I played with D. He wore a black shirt today. And it was called a sweater."

 
Know-it-all: "Daddy, how smart are you?" Biscuit asked.

"Well, I'm smarter than some people and not as smart as others," Jeff said. "Are you smart?"

"Yes," Biscuit said. "I'm smarter than EVERYONE!"

My husband

My husband drives me crazy. 

He is one of the slowest creatures God has ever created. He is almost always in my way as I'm flitting about our house (usually in the kitchen). And he does things that make me nuts, then says in a most innocent voice, "I didn't know."

But ... the good things about him greatly outweigh the crazy-driving parts.

Since mid-December, I've worked a lot of late hours. And that has required Jeff to take up my slack at home. And he's done it without complaint.

I believe that when both parents work, both parents should do the kid stuff. But for the past month, Jeff has done his half and my half, too. 

Jeff usually gets Biscuit ready in the morning, so since I've been at work in the evening, I offered to take over the morning duties. Jeff said no. He said I needed to take my time in the morning to get ready for whatever I'd be facing at work. Well, if you're going to twist my arm like that, I guess I'll give in.

We usually eat dinner at 7 p.m., and I've been leaving work between 7 and 7:30. So Jeff has been taking care of getting dinner for himself and Biscuit. Jeff only has a couple of recipes in his kitchen repertoire, but he's resourceful. And I haven't had to worry about that at all.

And on more than a few nights, when I call him to tell him I'm on my way home, I tells me to be careful, then we hang up so he can have some dinner ready for me when I get home.

Believe me when I say that I understand how lucky I am. Not all husbands would handle this situation the way Jeff has.

His usual response is, "Do what you need to do. The boy and I will be waiting on you when you get home."

Last Friday, when I found out that my best friend's Dad had died, I was pretty upset. I walked across the hall from the newsroom into a private office to call my friend. After I talked to her, I wanted Jeff.

I called him to come into the little office with me. When he got there, he hugged me and talked to me until I calmed down. And then, before I ever mentioned the funeral, Jeff said, "Can your Mama keep Biscuit?"

"When?" I asked.

"While we're at the funeral," Jeff said.

Jeff had only met my friend's Dad twice, but even so, I didn't have to ask him to go to the funeral. He knew it was important to me, so it was automatically important to him.

I think I sometimes take my husband for granted, but times like this past month remind me to work harder and not let that happen anymore.

Happy New Year!

Have you ever heard that old saying that whatever you're doing on New Year's Day is what you'll be doing for the rest of the year?

Well, this year, we have decided to opt out of that.

Biscuit woke up way too early this morning.

I tweaked my back at the end of last week, and it still hurts, which means I can't do a whole lot of anything, including the rest of the Christmas cleanup.

Jeff had to spend several hours working. And then had to redo some of that work because his computer crashed.

I didn't call all the people I had planned on calling today.

Biscuit got in big trouble for not listening.

I spilled bright red sweet and sour sauce all over the table and my shirt.

Jeff slammed his elbow against the bannister as he carried Christmas storage boxes back upstairs. Then banged the same elbow coming back down the stairs.

It's been raining all day, so our outside Christmas lights are still hanging ... and they will be until they're dry enough to pack up.

We're going to have a do-over starting tomorrow.

I hope everybody else had a better day.

Busy weekend

We didn't mean to have a busy weekend. We thought we'd get to relax and pack up our Christmas decorations and hang out at home.

But then our plans changed. The plans for today were good. The plans for tomorrow ... not good.

Biscuit and I got invited by a friend of mine and her son to go to a bounce house this afternoon. I thought Biscuit would be really excited about it, but when I asked him, he acted more like his Dad than me.

"Hey!" I said with excitement in my voice. "You wanna go to a bounce house this afternoon?"

Biscuit looked up a me, squinted his eyes a little and said, "Sure."

That was it.

"Will I have time for a nap, Mommy?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. "We'll do your nap a little bit early, then when you get up, we'll get dressed and go play."

And that's what happened.

The boys got along well and bounced for about an hour and a half, then we had some dinner at a restaurant that had a playground. And the boys played some more. I bet they'll both sleep well tonight.

Jeff met us for dinner and said when we left, he wanted to make a return at a store near the restaurant.

"You know it's a good Christmas when you only have one return, and it's something you bought for someone then changed your mind," Jeff said.

As we were looking around the store, there was a display of those big ride-in cars for kids. They had a jeep and a truck and a pink fru-fru car of some kind. Then there was a police car.

"Mom, I wish I could ride in THAT car," Biscuit said.

"That's a cool car," I said. "But they keep them on that high shelf to let people know they're just to look at, not to ride in."

"Can we buy one?" Biscuit asked.

"No," I said. "They cost a lot of money."

"I know where we can get a lot of money," Biscuit said.

"Where?" I asked.

"At the bank!" he said, like it was the most obvious answer ever. "You just go to the bank and get some money. Then you go back and go back and go back, and pretty soon, you have LOTS of money."

It must be nice to not have to worry about money.

Tomorrow morning, we have to leave early and drive to Mama's house. We're going to drop off Biscuit and have some lunch, then Jeff and I are going to a funeral for my best friend's Dad.

He had a degenerative disease that I can't remember the name of, but I don't think anybody thought it would happen this quickly.

My friend's Dad has been blind since we were little kids. He had a genetic disorder that caused the blindness. The ironic thing is that with the degenerative disease that he had, the first symptoms are vision problems and balance problems. Since both of those symptoms are part of his everyday life, the doctors couldn't really tell how long he had the disease.

From what my friend told me, the life expectancy for the disease is about 10 to 15 years, but since they didn't know when it started, there was no way to tell how long he would have.

My friend's Dad was a good man. He had a great since of humor, too.

Every time I'd see him, he'd say, "You get better looking every time I see you." And every time he said it, he thought it was just the funniest thing.

The first time Jeff met him, he said, "Kim knew she couldn't get married unless I met and approved of her beau." And he did.

My friend, who lives near the ocean, brought a bunch of fresh shrimp to her parents' house. Jeff and I just happened to be at Mama's that weekend, so we dropped by to see them and eat. We did a big Lowcountry boil with shrimp, potatoes, corn, sausage and rice.

The proper way to do a Lowcountry boil is boil the potatoes and corn, then throw in the sausage, then throw in the shrimp last. You make the rice and serve it on plates, but for everything else, you spread newspaper on the picnic table and dump it all out. Then it's a communal free-for-all.

Everyone had eaten and had moved away from the table. I had helped my friend's Dad get to a chair on the deck so we could talk.

"Where's Jeff?" he asked.

"He's still at the table," I said.

"Is that boy still eating?" he asked.

"Yep," I said. 

"I like him," he said.

So we'll be driving 2 1/2 hours tomorrow morning, then 2 1/2 hours tomorrow evening. I dread the riding, but I'm glad we can go and show our support.

Plus, we'll drop Biscuit off at his Grandmama's house, and it's always good for the boy to spend time with family.

Pete the Puppy

We have a new puppy to add to Biscuit's collection. Don't get excited. This one isn't any more real than his other doggies. Well, maybe a little more real.

He has Puppy (the dog he sleeps with), Sparky, Barky, Jingle and Grover. And now, we've added Pete the Puppy.

Pete the Puppy came from a friend of mine as a Christmas present to Biscuit. And Biscuit loves him.

The problem is, Pete is a yipper.

This is also the friend who gave Biscuit his first fire truck. So I have a lot of things to blame her for. And the problem is, she doesn't have any kids, which means I can't even get any payback!

I do have to say, though, that Pete is closer to a real dog than Biscuit's stuffed dogs, so we've gotten a reprieve from the request for a real one.

And I do have to admit that Pete is kinda cute.

You can judge for yourself:

Out of the mouth of my babe

A few things Biscuit has said recently:


Ouch! Biscuit doesn't understand the difference between spicy hot and temperature hot.

We were at a Mexican restaurant one night for dinner, and Biscuit wanted to dip his chip in the salsa. It was a little spicier than usual, so I said, "Just get a tiny, tiny bit of the sauce on your chip because it's kinda hot."

"We don't like hot things, do we Mom? But Dad, he likes hot stuff," Biscuit said.

"That's right," I said.

So one morning, while I was taking a shower, Biscuit went to the bathroom. Just as he started to flush, Jeff said, "Don't flush, boy. Mama is in the shower, and if you flush, it'll make the water in the shower very hot."

"Okay," Biscuit said. "I don't want Mommy to have the hot water. Me and her don't like hot things."

The next morning, Jeff was in the shower, and Biscuit said he had to go to the bathroom.

Biscuit finished his business and turned around to flush. He paused just a second, and I assumed he was remembering the conversation he had with Jeff.

Then he pushed the toilet handle down and flushed.

"Hey!" I said. "Dad's in the shower!"

"It's okay, Mom," Biscuit said. "Dad LIKES hot stuff."


Green means go: Jeff and Biscuit were driving home from day care the other day. Biscuit looked up and saw that the next traffic light was green.

"Quick, Dad, quick!" Biscuit said. "You have to make it through that light because it's your favorite color. It's green."

Jeff made it through the light with no problem.

"Yeah!" Biscuit said. "THAT's my boy!"


Biscuit's got the blues: Biscuit got a harmonica for Christmas. He calls it a cowboy harmonica and usually only plays it when he's wearing his cowboy hat.

He also got an ambulance for Christmas. It's very cool. It has working doors, two EMTs, a patient, a stretcher complete with an IV pole and bag.

For some reason, Biscuit wouldn't just swing open the back doors to put the stretcher in. He kept taking the doors completely off. Then he would bring them to me and ask me to put them back on.

After a couple of times of telling him not to take the doors off anymore, I told Biscuit that if he did it again, I'd take the ambulance away for a while.

Less than a minute later, Biscuit walked over and handed me the ambulance in one hand and the doors in the other.

"Mom" Biscuit said. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry about that, Mom. It's all my fault."

"Give me the ambulance," I said to Biscuit.

"You're going to fix the doors?" Biscuit asked.

"No," I said. "I'm going to put up the ambulance for a while."

"But Mom ..." Biscuit started.

"No," I said. "I told you, and you didn't listen."

"But I ..." Biscuit started again.

"No," I said. "I told you if you pull the doors off again, I would take away the ambulance. You can get it back later."

Biscuit hung his head down and started walking out of the living room.

"Mom," Biscuit said. "I'm so sad."

"I'm sorry you're sad," I said. "But I'm sad, too. It makes me sad when you don't listen to me."

I couldn't make this next part up.

Biscuit grabbed his harmonica and cowboy hat and walked into my bedroom. He climbed up on the bed and started playing his harmonica.

Jeff rounded the corner of the living room and smiled at me. "Nobody knows the trouble I've seen," Jeff sang. 

"I think our boy has learned to play the blues," I said.

Santa was here!

Biscuit was excited when he went to bed last night. We never got around to making homemade cookies, so we put store-bought cookies on Santa's plate. We also put out some reindeer munch we made at a birthday party last week.

Santa and the reindeer must've enjoyed their snacks because both plates were empty this morning. And Biscuit was thrilled.

He was so thrilled, he walked right by all his presents to see if the plate was empty. I had to tell him to check out the toys Santa left him.

Here's a video of him coming downstairs this morning:



And here are some pictures:

This package was from a friend who lives in Florida.
Inside was a dog that has the yippy-est bark EVER!

This box was almost too big for Biscuit. He
loved the Rudolph wrapping paper, though.

The stuff: a fire station, an ambulance, a cavalry set, a stuffed horse,
a firefighter puzzle that plays sirens when the last piece is put in, a
customized pillow case, adjustable skates, books and a kid computer tablet.

Biscuit empties his stocking.

Biscuit loved the harmonica he got. He says it's a cowboy harmonica.

We have THOUSANDS of teeny, tiny, miniscule,
little, itty-bitty, small pieces of stuff in our living room.

This firefighter is ready for action with
his helmet, gloves, belt and walkie-talkie.

Christmas Eve at home

I have been out of sorts all day, and I couldn't figure out why until Jeff told me.

This is the first Christmas Eve since Biscuit was born that we haven't been traveling, and I had no idea what to do with myself.

I worked today until 5 p.m., but as I was walking out of the building, I couldn't figure out where to go and what to do.

Christmas 2008: I was on maternity leave because Biscuit was born in November of that year.

Christmas 2009, 2010 and 2011: The day came on a weekend, so we were driving to Jeff's brother's house (1 1/2 hours away from home) or coming home from my parents' house (2 1/2 hours away from home).

This year, we did all our traveling over the weekend.

I thought it might be fun to go to a church service this evening, but all the ones I could find either started at 5 p.m. (I didn't leave work until then) or 10 p.m. (candlelight services that the boy couldn't last through).

Then I thought I might cook a nice dinner. Except that I didn't have anything thawed out from the freezer, and I really didn't feel like going to the grocery store.

Finally, we realized that we had forgotten to deliver some presents to a friend, so we grabbed the presents and jumped in the car. We dropped off the gifts and chatted for a few minutes. Then we drove around looking at some Christmas lights. Then we stopped for dinner. Then we looked at a few more Christmas lights. Then we drove home and had planned to open our gifts to each other.

About that time, Biscuit tried my patience to the point that I told him he was really close to not getting to open the presents he had under the tree. Have I mentioned that his ears stopped working when he turned 4?

We finally got things straight with him and opened our presents to each other. Then we laid out cookies for Santa, and Biscuit went to bed.

Even though Biscuit has been around for 4 years, we're still getting the hang of handling these holidays.

Christmas travels

When I was a kid, my Mama made sure we were always home on Christmas Day. It was important to her that Santa would be able to find us at our own house, and then once we got up, we could spend the day playing with whatever wonderful goodies he brought us.

My family is scattered, but we always did our Christmas travels at Thanksgiving. We traded gifts with our extended family then, too. So come Christmas morning, it was just the four of us. We often had family over for Christmas lunch, but the morning was just for us.

I made that rule for my family when Biscuit was born. I loved being at home on Christmas when I was a kid, and I want to make an effort to give Biscuit that time, too.

So even though Christmas isn't even here yet, Jeff, Biscuit and I are done with our Christmas travels.

We left after work Friday night and drove 2 1/2 hours to my parents' house. We spent all day Saturday with my parents, my brother and his family. Then this morning, we got up and drove 3 hours to Jeff's brother's house. Jeff's parents are staying with them right now, so we saw them, too. And best of all for Biscuit, he got to spend time with his cousins. This is the only time of year when he can visit with all five of his cousins over the course of one weekend.

It's about a 1 1/2-hour drive home from Jeff's brother's house, and we just arrived safe and sound about 10:30 p.m. So I'll share more about our trip, but for now, it's bedtime.

Here's a picture of Biscuit in his Christmas outfit.

Biscuit is styling blue corduroys, a white long-sleeve
T-shirt and a festive vest that my Mama bought him. It features an
old-fashioned truck carrying a load of Christmas trees.

Biscuit's big bucks

Well, Biscuit is rich ... or at least on his way to being rich someday.

We started a savings account for him today.

He is an official member of the Kirby Kangaroo Club. That's what they call the savings accounts for kids 12 and younger.

He has a passbook and an official membership card. He also got a little baseball and a cardboard folder with slots for quarters, so he can fill it up, then deposit it into his account.

When I was a kid, our bank had dime kitties. They were cardboard folders shaped like kittens that had slots for dimes. I guess kids have more money these days. They can go for the big bucks and start with quarters.

Biscuit doesn't understand any of this, of course, but as he gets older, I hope he can learn how to budget and save his money. Hopefully, it'll be a good lesson for him.

Plus, if Biscuit can save enough money through the years, Jeff and I might get to live in one of the NICE nursing homes!

Sounds of the season

Biscuit heard "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" five times one day, and he knew all the words to it.

I sang it for him one night while we were riding around looking at Christmas lights.

"Mom, can you sing that again?" he asked.

So I did.

"Mom, can you sing it just one more time?" he asked.

So I did.

"Mom, do you have that song with music on your computer?"

"Yes, I do," I said. "Would you like me to make you a CD of Christmas music that you can listen to while you take a bath?"

"YEAH!" Biscuit said, and he was excited.

I played the Gene Autry version of "Rudolph" twice for him. Then the next morning at the breakfast table, he sang it all the way through.

He does leave out one reindeer at the beginning and stumbles on the part about "then how the reindeer loved him, as they shouted out with glee."

But I was just impressed that he let me record him singing it.

Here's Biscuit with some sounds of the season:

We can fix it

A post from The Daddy Man:

Kimmy was working late tonight, and Biscuit wanted to know where she was.

"Mom is having computer problems at work," I told him.

"Dad! Hey! I have an idea," Biscuit announced. "I'll get my hammer, and you get your tools, and we'll go to Mama's work and fix her computer. Does that sound like a good plan?"

"I think Mama would be more than happy for you to hit her computer with a hammer," I told him.

Out of the mouth of my babe

A few things Biscuit has said lately:


Persistence: Biscuit and I were playing "truck." It's a game where we each give hints about a truck we're thinking about. Like I say, "I'm thinking about a truck that plays music as it drives through neighborhoods, and you can get a treat from it." Then Biscuit would say, "Um ... (like he's thinking), is it an ice cream truck?" And I would say yes and make a big fuss.

Grandpa came into the kitchen and decided to play with us. But Grandpa gave some hints the boy couldn't get.

I said to Biscuit, "Well, I don't know what kind of truck Grandpa is talking about. I guess we need to just give up."
 
"No, Mom," he said. "We never give up."


Don't worry: The TV channel Biscuit usually watches doesn't have commercials. So the first time he saw a commercial, he thought the show had gone off.

"Is it over, Mom?" he asked in a worried voice.

"No, baby," I said to him. "This is a commercial. After the commercials go off, the show will come back on."
We were watching a movie on TV the other evening, and a commercial came on.
 

I guess Biscuit thought Grandma didn't know about commercials because he looked at her and said, "Don't worry, Grandma. The movie will come back on, I promise. This is called a commercial. You watch the commercials and buy things, then your movie comes back on." 





Red nose: Biscuit is obssessed with Rudolph. He watched the TV show from the 70s. And after hearing the song three times, he knows all the words to it. He has a little Rudolph figure whose nose lights up when you push his tail down. It's all about Rudolph.

He asked Grandpa the other day if he'd like to play "Rudolph and Car." Grandpa needed some instructions, so Biscuit said, "You be the car, and you drive down the road, and when you see something red in the sky, you say, 'Hey, what's that red things in the sky?' Then I'll say, 'It's me ... Rudolph. I'm leading Santa's sleigh because it's foggy. Those other reindeer used to make fun of me, but Santa told them to quit making fun of me because I'm going to pull his sleigh tonight.'"

Biscuit took Rudolph with him when he went to the bathroom. I told him not to take toys in the bathroom because they could end up in the toilet, and that would be bad.

Later that evening, Jeff was getting ready to give Biscuit a bath. Biscuit took Rudolph to the bathroom with him. We have a water closet in the master bathroom where Biscuit takes his bath. The door to the water closet was open, and Biscuit decided to let Rudolph fly over the door.

And Rudolph did fly over the door ... and right into the toilet.

Biscuit went nuts!

"DAD! DAD! COME QUICK!" Biscuit yelled.

Jeff got into the water closet, and Biscuit was so upset. Jeff reached down to get Rudolph, but before he could reach him, Biscuit yelled, "DON'T FLUSH, DAD! DON'T FLUSH!"

Poor Biscuit. He seriously thought Jeff was going to flush Rudolph.

Jeff got Rudolph out and washed him up with soap and water. Luckily, when Jeff pushed Rudolph's tail down, his nose still lit up.

Biscuit seemed relieved until Jeff told him what had to happen next.

"Biscuit, you need to go tell Mama what happened," Jeff said.

And the tears that had started to dry up, started again. "I don't want to Dad," Biscuit said.


"I know," Jeff said. "But you have to."

I was in the kitchen making Christmas candy when Biscuit came in just crying and crying. He looked so pitiful, but even though all I wanted to do was scoop him up and hug him, I said, "What's wrong?"

"Um, Rudolph was in the toilet," Biscuit wailed.

"How did that happen?" I asked.

"He just fell in," Biscuit said.

"What did I tell you about taking Rudolph into the bathroom?" I asked.

"Not to," Biscuit said, still sobbing.

"And what did you do?" I asked.

"I did it," Biscuit said. "It's all my fault, Mom. I did it."

"Did you do it on purpose?" I asked.

"Noooooooo," Biscuit said. "I'm sorry, Mom. It's all my fault."

"Take a deep breath," I said. "And don't do it again."

Biscuit took a deep breath and gave me a hug. Then he headed back into the bathroom to get his bath.

I bet he didn't know that Rudolph could cause so much trouble.
  

Goodnight: Biscuit had to give everybody goodnight hugs last night. He hugged Grandma, then he walked over and stood in front of Grandpa.

"Can I shake your hand?" Grandpa asked.

"Grandpa! I'm not an adult. I'm just a kid," Biscuit said, as he stood there with his arms open.

He got his goodnight hug and went to bed.

Keeping the art without keeping the art

Biscuit creates lots of masterpieces at day care. And of course, I love every one of them. Well ... almost every one.

The problem is that I just don't have the room to keep every piece he does. Plus, some of his creations start to lose their pieces. We find little pieces of paper, noodles, stickers, glitter -- all kinds of things lying around on the floor as his artwork travels through the house.

So I decided to find a way to keep his artwork without KEEPING his artwork.

I took pictures of each piece and used a photo website to create a book. I made a book of the artwork he did in the 2-year-old class, and it came out really well. I used a different photo website this time, so the books would look different.

I think it turned out well, and Biscuit seems to like looking at it, too.

I took the book to Biscuit's daycare today. I wanted to show it to his teacher from the 3-year-old class to let her know that I appreciate what it takes to get projects like these done with squirmy little kids. It was fun to watch her flip through the book.

"I remember doing that," she said on one page.

"They had so much fun with that," she said, looking at another page.

When she looked back up at me, she had tears in her eyes. I'm glad I took it by to show her.




Here's the cover:

 

Here's the back cover:

And here are a few of the pieces I like the best:

The teacher put water color paint in ice trays and froze it.
Then the kids rubbed it around on the paper to paint.

This was made of spaghetti noodles, glitter and glue.

They made their thumbprints into ants around an ant hill.

Biscuit tells a story

Sometimes Biscuit will say to me, "Mom, tell me a story about ..." Then he'll proceed to give me a list of things to include in the story I'm about to make up to tell him.

One day last year, Biscuit said, "Mom, tell me a story about horses, a prince and princess, a mean old witch, firefighters, firetrucks and a picnic. Okay?"

"Sure," I said, having no idea how in the world I was going to combine all those things together.

So I wove a tale that went something like this:

Once upon a time, there was a prince and princess, and they decided to have a picnic. So they packed up their picnic basket with blankets to spread out on the ground and lots of food, like sandwiches and pasta salad and corn on the cob and chips and cookies and lemonade and sweet tea.

They put the picnic basket in their stagecoach, hooked up their horses and away they went.

As they were riding around looking for just the right picnic spot, they heard a noise ... (I can't spell the evil laugh the wicked witch does, but that's the noise they heard) ... "Heh, heh, heh, heh, heeeeeeeeh."

The prince and princess looked at each other and said, "What was THAT?!?"

And the mean, old witch flew on her broom down beside their stagecoach.

"What are you doing?" the mean, old witch said. (In a mean, old witch voice, of course.)

"We're going on a picnic," the prince said.

"We're looking for just the right spot," the princess said.

"Give me that picnic food," the witch said.

"No," the prince and princess said. "That's OUR picnic food."

"Then I'll TAKE it!" said the witch. And she did.

The prince and princess were so sad, and they didn't know what to do.

About that time, two firetrucks were coming back from a call, and they saw the prince and princess sitting on their stagecoach, looking all upset. So they drove over to where they were and asked them what was wrong.

"A mean, old witch came and took all our picnic food," the princess said. "And we want it back!"

The firefighters started talking with each other, trying to figure out what to do.

Then firefighter Ronnie Gage (one of the characters from 70s TV show "Emergency") suggested a plan.

"What if I get in the bucket on top of the ladder, and we drive fast to catch up with the witch. Then when we get right beside her, y'all can raise up the bucket, and I'll grab the picnic basket off the back of the witch's broom."

All the firefighters thought that sounded like a good plan, so away they went.

The firefighters finally found the witch, zooming through the forest on her broom. The firetruck pulled up right beside her, and Firefighter Ronnie Gage yelled, "NOW!" And they raised up the ladder with the bucket on the top.

"What are you doing?" the witch asked.

"Taking back the prince and princess' picnic food!" Firefighter Ronnie Gage said.

"No you're not!" the witch said.

"Oh, yes I am!" the firefighter said.

Just then, he reached over and grabbed the picnic basket. "LOWER THE LADDER!" the firefighter yelled.

So they lowered the ladder, and Firefighter Ronnie Gage and the picnic basket were safe and sound on the firetruck.

Well, the witch was watching what was happening, and all of a sudden, BAM! The witch flew right into a tree. She fell down off her broom, fast asleep, and she couldn't bother anybody anymore.

The firefighters took the picnic basket back to the prince and princess. They were so happy to get their stuff back, they invited all the firefighters to have a picnic with them.

So they spread out the blankets, and they put out the sandwiches and pasta salad and corn on the cob and chips and cookies and sweet tea and lemonade. Everybody ate lots of food and had a really good time.

The End.

I realize this isn't the greatest of stories, but it uses all the things Biscuit wanted included, and he loves it.

The other morning, I asked Biscuit to tell me a story. And he decided he'd take a shot at telling me the story I made up.

Here's his version:

Party time

We've been invited to three kid birthday parties in the past couple of months. The first one was while we were out of town. The second two were on the same day, almost at the same time, and we had to choose which one to go to.

I didn't tell Biscuit about the parties we couldn't go to. He still doesn't have a great concept of time, so he wouldn't have understood not being able to go to all of them.

We let Biscuit skip getting a bath last night with the deal that he would take a shower with Jeff this morning. Biscuit was a little hesitant to follow through.

"Why do I have to take a bath?" Biscuit asked.

"Because we're going to a birthday party," I told him.

"A BIRTHDAY PARTY?!?" Biscuit yelled.

And of course because as is the case with all 4-year-olds, everything is about Biscuit.

"Will they have cake for me?" he asked.

"I bet they'll have cake, but it won't be for you," I said. "It'll be for the birthday boy."

"Will the birthday boy share his cake with me?" Biscuit asked.

"If there's cake, I bet you can have some," I said.

And there was cake. A cake shaped like a train. And Biscuit got some of it.

Since the party was train-themed, but birthday boy was wearing his overalls. He's 13 months younger than Biscuit, but since Biscuit is still small for a kid his age, the birthday boy is about the same size. So it was very cute when the birthday boy walked up to Biscuit and in a sweet little voice said, "I'm going to give you a hug."

And he did.

It probably won't be long until the boys will tell you they're too big for hugs, but I'm sure we'll encourage them as long as we can.

The kids got to make reindeer food to leave out for the reindeer while Santa is delivering the presents. The kids scooped up oats, bread crumbs, raisins, cocoa powder and a little red glitter (so the reindeer can easily find the food) and put it in little bowls with lids. Biscuit has told me twice since the party this afternoon to remember to put out the food when Santa comes.

There was also a cookie decorating station. Biscuit was a little unsure about the process, but I talked him into giving it a try.

"How do I do it?" Biscuit asked.

"Well, it's shaped like a boy," I said. "Here's the head, here are the arms and legs, and here's the body. Do you want to make a face?" 

Biscuit picked up a couple of mini-M&Ms, but he didn't seem to know what to do with them.

"How do you make a face?" Biscuit asked.

"Look at my face," I said. "Where are my eyes?"

"They're right there," Biscuit said, pointing. "They're at the top of your face." 

"That's right," I said. "So the eyes go at the top. Where is my nose? Is it above or below my eyes?"

"It's below your eyes," Biscuit said. Then we had the same conversation about my mouth.

"You put the candies where you want them, and I'll glue them on with icing," I told Biscuit.

Here's his creation:

Biscuit finished his cookie and went back to play. Then I saw one of the adults decorating a cookie.

"Can we decorate them, too?" I asked the birthday boy's mom. "I figured they were just for the kids."

She assured us that we all could decorate cookies, so I got to play, too.

Here's mine: 

The kids played well together, and Biscuit was in a really good mood as we left. We decided to stop by the store and get some Christmas candy supplies on the way home. Biscuit said he wanted to walk instead of riding in a buggy, but I could tell by looking at him that he wasn't going to last long. 

We were in the store maybe 5 minutes when Biscuit crossed his arms and laid his head down. He was out. He slept through the whole shopping trip and didn't wake up until Jeff lifted him out of the buggy as we got ready to leave.

The nap was just enough to make him feel rested, though, because as soon as we started to leave the parking lot, Biscuit was talking about the party and how he had a good time.

My in-laws arrived this evening for their annual winter visit. Biscuit was really excited to see them.

As it got later, Biscuit came to me and said, "Mom, is it time to go to bed? I'm tired."

As soon as he crawled into bed, he started playing with his hair. Ever since he's had hair, Biscuit has played with it when he's tired. I read him two books, and he had a tough time getting through the second one.

And as he told me the other day, I hope he sleeps and gets some good rest so we can play tomorrow.