He’s Not Even A Thumbsucker

Yesterday morning, after hearing his jabbering, Jud and I went into Gideon’s room to find him undressed from the waist down.  His very stinky diaper was neatly folded to his left and he was standing in the corner, happy to see us.  We were very thankful that the diaper, and its contents, were not dumped onto our nearly white carpet, or worse, smeared about the crib, walls, or baby.  It was both a reason to sigh with relief and tense with fear because, you know, it could happen again…with much different results.  At least the morning diaper change was a tad bit easier.

When I told the story to my mother, she suggested that from now on, when entering his room, we should always take the camera with us.  Just in case.  You never know.  And remember Kathy’s advice…before you get mad, take a picture. It’s good advice and it makes rolling with the annoying messes that much more bearable.

And so I took the camera in after his morning nap.  He wasn’t naked.  Just plotting his next escape attempt (the first one left him with a giant bruise on his chin, where he presumably smacked it hard against the railing.  It was almost three weeks ago now, so the bruise is all but gone, save a little greeness.  We didn’t hear him cry when he did it.  We just found him a little dazed sitting down on his mattress). 

And in true baby foreshadowing, he did this while I was snapping pictures.

The kid doesn’t bother with sucking his thumb. He doesn’t like pacifiers either.  He doesn’t really get into all of that.  But he chews.  On anything.  Most of the time whatever he has is shoved into the back right corner of his mouth, drool running down to his elbow as he works the instrument like a little lance against his gums.  So far there are no new teeth, but that isn’t for lack of trying. 

Unfortunately, I presume he does it because of the gum pain, he has taken to biting things, mostly cloth items, like pillows and blankets or the occasional pair of jeans.  But today, while attempting to feed him a sandwich (failing miserably since he really just wanted my hummus instead…argh foodie baby! That’s Mama’s expensive indulgence!) and putting a piece of food in his mouth, he clamped down on my finger. I started yelling.  He increased the pounds per square inch.  I started squeezing his cheeks.  He didn’t ease up.  It felt like forever, but when I finally managed to pull my bloody finger back, he seemed a little shocked. He should be glad that I had to run it under cold water, which meant that I had to step away from him for a bit because I usually respond to bites from him with bites back. And at that moment in time, he might have become Gideon, the nine fingered kid.  

Nice work, Chompers, but leave your biting to the chick peas, please.