Just when you thought it was safe to go back into daycare...
My son bit two children last week and you never saw two parents more freaked out.
No, not their parents. Me and Guy.
He called me at work to tell me, which sent me spinning into a mental spiral of worry.
By the time I'd gotten into my car to fly home to get our little "savage", Guy had already researched everything there was to know about toddlers and biting. I imagine he Googled with the passion of someone looking for naked pics of a pregnant Britney Spears (none exist that I'm aware of, and how disgusting of you to wonder).
He explained how he wanted to handle things with the daycare: Coordinate our efforts via a face to face meeting where we'd discuss how they handled him and discuss how we could mirror their efforts at home in order to maintain consistency. He was focused and concerned about proper child rearing practices. I was afraid I'd see a parent of one of the afflicted and get the talking to of my life and that they'd kick my son out of daycare and we'd get sued by the other child's parents. My husband was strategizing and I was catastrophizing.
Nervous as a Korean engineering student making his debut on American Idol, I pulled into the parking lot. Nary a car. I prayed silently that we'd slide on outa there. When I entered Spencer's play room, there he sat in a table-highchair hybrid: Approximately two feet around him, separating him from every other child in the room. All I could hear in the back of my head was: "I ate his liver with fava beans and a nice Chianti".
And there was my angel baby.
Spencer was looking up at me, sweet as could be. I felt horrible. I picked him up, apologizing to the director profusely. I waited for her to chew me out (oh BAD. no pun intended. honest.), expecting dirty looks and tongue clicking. Instead it was business as usual.
They pointed out his victims and showed me that although they'd thought he'd broken the skin on one girls finger, it seemed to not be so bad. One victim, a little girl, came right over to hug Spencer. She was forgiving her attacker! It was amazing to learn she'd been accosted by my sons chompers and wasn't trying to pull his hair out.
The other little boy was about his age and tends to be his riding partner when they're all taken outside in strollers. Apparently they were having a WWF Smackdown right in the stroller. Spencer won without having to go to a closed cage match. Noone was worse for the wear really except me.
I skulked out of there with Spencer on my arm, smiling awkwardly and making small talk as we left. The only thing he's bitten since are my finger (cause I was trying to clean orange crayon from the inside of his mouth) and his three regular meals accompanied by ice cream.
If I see his teeth bared I just have to keep repeating the following mantra: "Redirect...Redirect...Redirect". Or buy a muzzle.
