Tuesday, July 28, 2009


I was totally prepared to have to intervene in sibling altercations. I knew I would have to yell "GIVE IT BACK TO YOUR SISTER RIGHT NOW." I just thought it would be Frankie I would be screaming at.

I can't tell you how many times in the last week I have had to say "NO BITE. Biting hurts. NO BITE," only to have said chompers sink into my own arm. Sometimes accompanied by a quick slap or a pinch of my neck meat.

Frankie bit as a toddler, too, but only inanimate objects. When the plastic doll stroller was being uncooperative, getting a wheel caught in the shag rug, there was biting involved. When her scooter tipped over in the driveway, cue the fangs. But she never bit people. Except for that one unfortunate day when I was bending over her wiping her rear after a big job on the potty and she sank her teeth into the tender white exposed flesh of my inner thigh. I still maintain it was an experiment though. There was no malice or forethought, just a fleeting idea that "Hmmm, this looks juicy and meaty. I wonder how it tastes?". Plus there was the biting while nursing, but again, I blame innocent curiousity. Although, let me tell you, when you are blissfully feeding your infant and it happens, there ain't nothing that seems innocent about it at the time.

Molly, on the other hand, has pure venom behind her bites. If Frankie is drawing and doesn't feel so inclined to give up her blue marker at the moment, well then, lets just sink an incisor or two into her forearm and change her mind, shall we? And then when I pull her aside to discipline her, she gets a wicked grin and opens her mouth wide and tries to chomp down as I try to maneuver all my dangling limbs away from her. The more sternly I say "NO BITING," the more hilarious she finds it all.

I am glad that I have been through this stage before. I remember distinctly trying to discipline Frankie at this age and despairing that she was clearly a sociopath since nothing seemed to work. Her infractions were different. Primarily, they involved pulling soil from the corn plant in the family room and throwing food from her high chair, but the basic defiance was all too familiar. I remember staring her down as I told her "NO THROWING" and watching as she slyly tilted her head, maintaining eye contact all the while, and chucked pieces of her grilled cheese onto the hardwood.

This too shall pass, but in the meantime, I am keeping my tender areas well padded.

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