Teething. . .ahhhh teething. I have spent the last nine months of Hank’s life wondering: Why didn’t God design babies to be born with all their teeth in?
Hank has three different teeth all coming in at once, which is equal parts awful and great. The great is my way of positive thinking. I say knock three more out at once, little boy, and let’s get this misery over!
The ONLY upside to teething is the new and exciting varieties of foods we can feed the little piggy as he gets more and more teeth. He has gotten quite good at crunching, now that he has some molars, and last night we introduced him to his new favorite food – fresh sweet corn – on the cob!
I didn’t intend to introduce it to him on the cob, I was mostly just excited for him to try such a yummy new vegetable. He had never been overly impressed with corn from the freezer or a can.
He wasn’t convinced that he needed to try this corn at first either; the beautiful pile of yellow and white kernels I cut off for him (like I do my own) did not seem to interest him in the least. He was too busy watching the rest of the table eat their corn. He was fascinated! The lightbulb finally clicked on in my mama-brain and I realized he wanted to eat his corn like a man – like his daddy and big brothers were. With his chompers, right off the cob.
What could it hurt? I thought, so I grabbed a half ear and held it for him. It took him about one failed bite to realize he needed to really give her hell if he was going to get anywhere on that cob!
He looked that corn cob over, opened up wide, and bit into it with those 11 sharp little teeth like he was entered in a corn-on-the-cob eating contest. He meant business! I am not sure what part of it delighted him more; the yummy corn, the fact that he was now doing exactly what big brothers and daddy were doing, or the delightful pop, pop, pop the kernels made as he bit through them. I kept turning the cob for him and he kept biting away, loving it more and more as he went. I am not sure he was even stopping to breathe between bites.
All I could see in my mind’s eye while my little man inhaled corn like a big boy, was the bugs bunny cartoon where he eats corn-on-the-cob like a typewriter, complete with the “DING!” when he got to the end of the row!
Turn please, mama!
The pride was bursting out of me, and I even took a video of the corn-eating machine to send to his Grandpa, a corn-eating legend in our family.
After Hank finally decided he had had enough, he pushed the (second) empty cob back into my hand and turned around on my lap.
Oh, now I get a snuggle from my big boy, too!
What a way to top off a great dinner! I was thrilled, so excited he had mastered a new skill and enjoyed it so much.
I didn’t get to savor my proud snuggle long. I became much less thrilled with Hank’s new skill about one second later when I felt a sudden burning pain—
I looked down, and there was my little piggy, sinking his corn-cob chompers into his mama’s arm. And he was giving her hell!
In celebrating his corn-cob eating prowess, we had created a monster! He obviously has the biting thing down. What he really needs is more practice with some cut-off corn kernals, his spiderman bowl, and a spoon; like I originally intended. I think that might be a better skill to focus on for now.
The adorable little teeth marks in my bicep agree with me.