Clark must be teething.
That's the only explanation for his intense biting habits of late--after all, he knows not to bite, we've taught him that biting is a mean thing to do, and yet my poor Jack is covered in bite marks.
We've taught Jack to flick Clark in the mouth when he bites, so Clark always inadvertently gets offended and usually ends up crying louder than Jack does after he bites him.
Needless to say, this is making for some contention in our home.
The other morning, we were all playing in Maggie's room when Clark got that mischievous grin on his face that lets me know that trouble ("with a capital "T," and that rhymes with "P," and that stands for Pool!") was coming, and he leaned in towards Jack...I pulled him away before things could get ugly.
"Clark," I explained in the tone of voice reserved for when Mom is trying to be the Good Mom and explain something in a kind, gentle way, "Biting is a mean thing to do, and you are a nice boy, so I don't like it when you do mean things!"
"I know," he smiled as he went in again...
"So no biting!" I put it bluntly.
He started crying. "But I waaaant tooooooo!"
Yesterday, Steve was playing around with Clark--we were all wrestling on our bed, and Steve decided to give Clark a taste of his own medicine.
"Clark, can I bite your nose?" Steve leaned in, mouth dramatically wide.
"Nooo!" Clark started to look alarmed.
"Can I bite your....chin?"
"Nooo!"
"Can I bite your leg?"
"Nooooooo!!" By this time, Clark was genuinely panicked.
"Well, what can I bite?" Steve asked.
Clark suddenly brightened: "You can bite Mommy!"
Thanks a lot, kid.
That's the only explanation for his intense biting habits of late--after all, he knows not to bite, we've taught him that biting is a mean thing to do, and yet my poor Jack is covered in bite marks.
We've taught Jack to flick Clark in the mouth when he bites, so Clark always inadvertently gets offended and usually ends up crying louder than Jack does after he bites him.
Needless to say, this is making for some contention in our home.
The other morning, we were all playing in Maggie's room when Clark got that mischievous grin on his face that lets me know that trouble ("with a capital "T," and that rhymes with "P," and that stands for Pool!") was coming, and he leaned in towards Jack...I pulled him away before things could get ugly.
"Clark," I explained in the tone of voice reserved for when Mom is trying to be the Good Mom and explain something in a kind, gentle way, "Biting is a mean thing to do, and you are a nice boy, so I don't like it when you do mean things!"
"I know," he smiled as he went in again...
"So no biting!" I put it bluntly.
He started crying. "But I waaaant tooooooo!"
Yesterday, Steve was playing around with Clark--we were all wrestling on our bed, and Steve decided to give Clark a taste of his own medicine.
"Clark, can I bite your nose?" Steve leaned in, mouth dramatically wide.
"Nooo!" Clark started to look alarmed.
"Can I bite your....chin?"
"Nooo!"
"Can I bite your leg?"
"Nooooooo!!" By this time, Clark was genuinely panicked.
"Well, what can I bite?" Steve asked.
Clark suddenly brightened: "You can bite Mommy!"
Thanks a lot, kid.
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