Skip to main content

Toddler teeth are sharp, I have the bite mark to prove it

Most days, The Kid is absolutely adorable and today was no exception. But sometimes adorable comes with a price, especially when she is frustrated.

Gladys was getting ready to take her to the Detroit Zoo, while I was getting ready to study for the class I'm taking and visit Grandma as she recovers from a broken rib and pneumonia. While Gladys was getting dressed, I was trying to occupy The Kid so Gladys could get ready interruption free.

The Kid and I had been chasing each other around our apartment for most of the morning, so I made the choice to leave the baby gate down. Instead, I thought I would just get in her way when she decided to run down the hall. I positioned myself so two steps in either direction would completely block her path.

Foolishly, I thought she'd find it a fun game. I took one step over, she grabbed my leg and laughed.  She tried to run around me, so I stepped over to block her path. I received a laugh and a slap, which I interpreted as playful. The third time, she grabbed my leg like she was going to hug me, which is normal for her. Except, she decided to lead with teeth first and chomped down hard on my left thigh.

We both started screaming loudly enough for Momma to come running to find out what happened. I was shocked, The Kid was mad and Momma was amused.

Needless to say, I learned a hard lesson today. A frustrated toddler has teeth that are sharp enough to break skin. I have the bite mark to prove it.  

Popular posts from this blog

Our family became whole because another family fell apart

A co-worker shared a powerful story from Huffington Post with me today. It was one adoptive mother's account of the days from meeting their birth mother to walking away from the hospital with their soon-to-be-adopted daughter in tow. I almost cried reading it because I can relate to the story in many ways, especially the feelings of uncertainty that are ever present until you see the amended birth certificate in the mail. 
"Bearing witness to her sorrow, I realize BabyMama is also experiencing three days of labor. As we text and grieve, we experience the contractions of the heart and body and mind together." -Kathleen Dennehy 
Our situation was different. The family in the story had to wait for three days in the hospital while the birth mother had to make the impossible decision to surrender her child for adoption. The Kid's foster mom had taken her home from the hospital and cared for her until her birth parent's legal rights to custody were terminated. We met h…

To a generous young trick-or-treater for his kindness

Our neighborhood is unbelievable on Halloween night. Starting about 6 p.m., our street is packed with trick-or-treaters. If you don't start stockpiling candy early, you could go broke trying to keep up with the crowd.

The Kid doesn't really like the trick-or-treating part, she loves to hand out the candy. She ventured out twice, once with me and once with Grandma, but returned because she loved being the helper kid who was making everyone enjoy their holiday.

One young man hesitated at our door after she stuffed a few treats into his bag. If I had to guess, he was about 10 or 11 years old himself. He started fumbling in his bag, pulled out a treat and said, "This is for her since she hasn't been out trick-or-treating for herself."

I think he was a little embarrassed by our effusive praise of his generosity. He didn't have to do that for our little Wonder Woman. She was having a great time and has a boatload of candy from her two tours of our block. But he wa…

A random conversation at the Peninsula Grill

There were four of us seated at the bar last night at the Peninsula Grill, a regular on the end to my left and a couple at the other end on my right. I purposefully picked the middle of the bar so I could watch the Tigers game while journaling in peace. Between finishing my soup and my whitefish arriving, I had managed to fill almost an entire page.  

I write letters to The Kid in the journal. Someday, I will probably give it to her. Many of my letters are simple remembrances of the funny things she said, accounts of the astute observations she's made or me reminding her future self of the giving things she did as a four year-old. Some of the content is about my journey to becoming her Papa, and that can be deeply personal. She's also getting to an age that blogging all of it is no longer appropriate, she deserves her privacy, so I decided several months ago to start an old-school journal to preserve my memories.  
After dinner, which was excellent, I continued to pour my hea…