Teething Bites

Teething Bites…no really, it does. My son, Henry, who is four months, is officially teething. Our supplies include several first class teethers such as Sophie the giraffe, a crinkle giraffe that has lovingly been named Penelope, and a key ring by Nuby, all of which I adore. These pacify Henry for up to five minutes at a time, at which point he casually discards them, and then wails until we give him something better.

What could be better? Well, one superior and completely organic teether is Zac’s pointer finger—either is fine. Henry would happily chew on Zac’s finger until the end of time, but because soggy fingers are uncomfortable, and for fear of losing the finger all together, he is never permitted to enjoy it for more than 10 minutes at a time. Upon discovering this super soothing technique I tried offering Henry my own finger. He quickly made it clear that my finger was at the bottom of the teething totem pole, which actually hurt my feelings a little; however, a day or two later he revealed that I had something just as tantalizing to offer…my chin.

The first time it happened was terrifying. Henry had been sitting quietly on my lap, when I lifted him for a snuggle. He smiled, babbled cutely, and then put his cheek against my cheek in the most adorable way possible. I have the most perfect baby ever, I thought blissfully. That’s when he attacked. He arched his back and then charged at me, achieving incredible speed. His little mouth was opened wider than I thought possible as he clamped down on my chin like a drooling, cherubic zombie and proceeded to munch voraciously. In a panic I removed my chin from his currently toothless mouth. He let out a cry of misery, and thinking it was a fluke I pulled him close, trying to comfort him. My chin was once again between his gums.

Now that the shock was over I realized that this was kind of hilarious, and started laughing, while pulling him away from my face once more (because believe me, a soggy chin is infinitely worse than a soggy finger). I figured that this attack was born of desperation, and so I offered him my finger, which he speedily and vehemently rejected. Sigh! I quickly grabbed Penelope, which appeased him for the usual five minutes, at which point the wave of extreme discomfort seemed to have passed.

Henry’s fervent longing for my chin has not waned with time, He still surprises me with occasional sneak attacks, and since the process of teeth emerging from your gums is a horrifying one, sometimes I let him gnaw on my chin for a minute before pulling him off (when no other teethers are available). Does it leave my chin soggy and gross? Of course it does! But when so many aspects of motherhood are soggy and gross, why draw the line at chin chewing? In the meantime, I pray that we all survive this teething process with the same number of fingers and chins we began with.