I Knew This Day Would Come...

He tries to be good. I know he does. But the way he lets his frustration out is bad...

B...A...D.

He's a biter, and it happened today at daycare.

I have gotten one call already, the one where they call me Mrs. and I feel really old. They told me he had fallen off the chair, bumped his head, it was cleaned, iced etc, etc. All was good.

But today at pickup it was more on the sly, back door, a kind of BTW, he bit someone and that's that. And I felt awful, judged, terrible. The biter and bitee are not known to each other. Or at least the parents aren't. Which I guess makes for less awkward interchanges in the parking lot. But still, he's the one.

But maybe not. My hope is not. I scoured his little body today looking for signs of a battle, toothmarks that might indicate a tete a tete, rather then a one sided gnawing. I am convincing myself that a new bruise on his arm, the size of a pencil eraser is sure sign of some other little germy mongrel sinking their chompers in...but I will never know. He's not saying.

But really, how could you be mad at that face? And those teeth?! How sharp they are! All the better to...