Just A Wee Nibble!

        All creatures, both great and small, have natural defensive mechanisms by which they fend off aggression and prolong their survival. The skunk has its spray, the porcupine its quills, and the turtle its shell. For many creatures this entails, not a specialized body part, but, rather, an instinctive behavior. Fish school together, ground hogs burrow, cats arch their backs to make themselves look larger and more threatening. Sometimes these same defensive mechanisms are used for offensive purposes; instead of fending off aggression they are used to commit aggression. This type of behavior might entail scratching, or kicking, or stinging, depending on the particular creature in question. Apparently, when that creature is a small child, say twenty-one months old or so, with blond curly hair, chubby cheeks, and a rowdy attitude, the mechanism most natural and instinctive for both defensive and offensive purposes is that most primal of actions, that oldest, fiercest and most bestial of aggressions. That's right, you guessed it. Mackey bites.

         I first became aware of this development a couple of weeks back. Actually, at the time, it was more of a suspicion than anything else. Mackey and I were playing around and she was climbing up into my lap when her mouth came in contact with my bare knee (I was wearing shorts at the time). When this happened she paused for a moment and I felt a small bite, actually more like a small amount of pressure from her teeth, on my knee. I stopped her and gave her the standard warning about "no biting". Then we went on about our day and I didn't think anything more about it.

          Then a week ago Sunday, Uncle Tom and I dropped in at their house to pay a visit. Kiley and Mackey have recently moved into a new house that they are very proud of, and they had been eager to show Uncle Tom their new domicile, especially their new bedroom, where Kiley's "big girl bed" and Mackey's crib are quaintly situated with their names artistically rendered on the wall above each. During the grand tour their mother pointed out a small red mark on Kiley's face. It appears that during a recent altercation, Mackey bit Kiley on the cheek. Uh oh! This served as confirmation of what I had previously only suspected. Twice can't really be called a pattern, but it was pointing in that direction.

         Then this past week, Kiley and Mackey were watching the squirrels through the kitchen window and, as is their nature, were pushing and jostling for the most advantageous position, when Mackey, in frustration, grabbed Kiley and attempted to bite her on the arm. I stopped her by yelling and again warned her about biting. (Kiley overreacted and went into hysterics about how Mackey had bitten her when she actually had merely attempted to bite her. This was understandable, however, in view of the fact that she had recently been bitten on the face and was probably a little "bite shy"). I calmed them both down and gave Mackey a harsh reprimand that she took grudgingly. Then later in the week, while I was in the house and the girls were out back with Uncle Tom, an altercation over the use of the swings arose and, in the tussle, Mackey once again attempted to bite Kiley on the cheek.

        There can now be no doubt that Mackey has an inclination to use her teeth for both offensive and defensive purposes, which is somewhat alarming. When it comes to babies, a propensity to bite, once established, is hard to break. That's because biting, for those wee ones who indulge in it, is really an instinctive behavior that doesn't seem to have any real thought behind it. It's more of a reflexive action than a deliberate strategy so it doesn't lend itself to reason, or logic, (not that twenty-one-month-olds are all that responsive to reason or logic to begin with). On top of this, the teeth are very powerful weapons for those who are willing to use them. A good bite is a painful thing that can turn the tide of battle even when one's opponent is bigger and stronger as is the case with Kiley and Mackey. It can be hard to convince the otherwise defenseless to forgo their one effective weapon when doing so dooms them to perpetual defeat, especially in the thick of the fight when tempers are high and desperation sets in.

        I have faced this problem before. My youngest daughter, Sarah, was a biter. (Her favorite target was the soft spot on the shoulder right below the neck.) So maybe biting runs in our family. There might be a "biting gene" floating around out there that, though recessive, expresses itself every generation or so. So what do you do with a biter? In the past the rule of thumb was that biting could be cured by simply giving the offender a taste of her own medicine. In other words, by biting the biter. I was certainly given that advice a generation ago and even tried it once, but I found it to be an unsatisfactory means of curbing behavior. It is hard, for the unpracticed, to gauge the proper biting pressure to administer. With a bite there is no such thing as a little too much. Too much is always way too much. Besides, I immediately found the psychological effects of biting my little girl to be far greater on me than they apparently were on her. Once was too much.

        Like Mackey, Sarah also has a sister who was older, bigger, and stronger than she was when they were little. So maybe the biting habit isn't genetically hard wired into the offenders after all. Maybe it is merely the weapon of last resort employed by the weak when faced with otherwise unbeatable foes. Kiley and Mackey adore each other but, as sisters, they inevitably come into conflict with one another. Kiley has always had the upper hand in those conflicts until Mackey began using her teeth to level the playing field. The only way to stop that empowering behavior is to be watchful and vigilant, and discourage it whenever it occurs. She will eventually grow out of it.

        In the long run it is in Mackey's best interest that she stops using her teeth as a weapon. Not only because it's not a civilized thing to do but also because what goes around often comes around, and if Kiley ever decides to bite back she will undoubtedly, as the older sister, be far better at it than poor Mackey. Besides, dogs bite, sharks bite, even mosquitoes bite, but little girls don't bite, at least not each other. "People aren't food, don't bite!"

Nan

Mackey

 

         Close to nineteen months ago, on a hot August day, Kiley underwent a profound metamorphosis. She had spent the first nineteen months of her life as an only child, a unique object of affection and, you could even say, adoration. That's not to say that she was spoiled or pampered in any way. Adoration aside, her mother is a very down to earth no nonsense type who doesn't allow her motherly devotion to interfere with her motherly duties. Raising children is a delicate balance between the overwhelming love we feel for our offspring and the overwhelming sense of responsibility we feel for their proper upbringing. Some people, understandably, have difficulty balancing the two, and depending on which way the scale tips can either over or under indulge their children, resulting in either spoiling them on the one hand or impeding their ability to form a healthy sense of self esteem on the other. Kiley's mother has no such difficulty. The ability to strike that delicate balance seems to come naturally to her and is a testament to her own upbringing (in which I played a small part.) But getting back to the point, at nineteen months of age, Kiley stopped being an only child and transformed into that most extraordinary and mysterious of earthly creatures, the "sister". In other words, in August of 2013, through the benevolent efforts of her parents, McKinley Renae was born, otherwise known as "Mackey".

As my husband is fond of saying, Mackey is a "funny little squib". At nineteen months of age she is exhibiting her individual personality, and I think everyone who knows her would agree she's a regular pistol. She is showing a real sense of humor, which is unusual for someone who is just learning to talk. She actually makes jokes from time to time. It's unbelievable. Granted, they are primitive attempts at humor, being fashioned by someone with about a twenty-word vocabulary and a limited understanding of the world, and they primarily consist of unusual or ridiculous responses to questions or statements, but they are obviously intended to elicit laughter from her "audience". Saying, "yes" instead of an appropriate "no", for instance, is apparently the height of humor to her and though we don't always get the point, she does and thinks it's hilarious. She is always laughing.

She has a way of looking at people out of the corner of her eye with a sly kind of expression that my husband finds adorable. "What are you looking at?" he'll say, and she'll reply with a knowing smile. She's kind of "rough and tumble" and has a swagger in her walk. She's presents a tough exterior to the world but underneath she's a drama queen. When she gets a little boo-boo it's like the end of the world- oh, the wailing! - the tears! - the burying of her face in your neck! Calming her down takes forever and usually requires some kind of distraction.

She is an accomplished dancer, especially when dancing to the "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse Song" which we have on a disc. Unfortunately, she only wants to dance to the first three stanzas. Once they sing "Forever let us hold our banners high, high, high, high" and she has raised her right fist and shouted "high" along with them, she insists that we start it over at the beginning. After starting it over for the thousandth time, that gets old. "Just let it play, Mackey!" But she is like that. She likes certain things and certain specific parts of things. Her favorite movie is "Lilo And Stitch" which she has to watch every morning on a portable DVD player while she eats her breakfast. But once more, she wants to watch her favorite part of the movie over and over and over again, the part in the very beginning where the little girls are dancing while the credits roll.  Unfortunately, she can't operate the machine herself and I am busy at breakfast time so her stubborn insistence can cause a situation. "Just let it play, Mackey!"  Kiley can operate the machine, however, so she is a big help in these situations. Having a tech savvy three-year-old in the house can be a Godsend.

Toddlers go through "phases" where they latch onto new experiences and stick with those new behaviors and activities for a time before moving on to something else. Mackey's latest idiosyncrasy is "whispering". She will come up and whisper to you in a confidential way as if imparting some kind of deep secret. There are no actual words involved, just a whispering sound and a secretive air. You are required to whisper back, of course, and she always let's you know that she understands what has been exchanged by giving a quick nod or whispered " 'kay" before moving on to some other activity. She has also become fond of pushing her baby doll around in a play stroller, endlessly. Through the family room, through the kitchen, all around the house Mackey and her baby are going for a walk. And the doll looks like her - a Cabbage Patch with a chubby face and short, curly, blonde hair. Mackey is a good mother.

Mackey is a good baby too. She loves to eat and loves to laugh. She likes Daisy Duck. She likes dancing, hiding, and playing with flashlights. She loves Mister Pickles and building forts. She burps as loud as she can whenever possible. She is smart, sweet, funny, and affectionate. She is tough and teary, a cut-up and a cuddler, half little sweetie and half linebacker. She is both a worthy opponent and loving little sister to Kiley, and a tender little treasure and brutish little bandit to me. Having her with us for the past year and a half has lit up our lives, melted our hearts, and filled our home with warmth and laughter. She is a cherished and beloved addition to our daily lives. How were we ever happy without her?

Nan

Stand Up And Be Counted

        Kiley is now nine months old. That is a really significant milestone. Up until now she had lived most of her life inside the womb - warm and dark, cozy and safe, not a whole lot of demands or expectations, with Mom so close that they were literally attached to each other.  From now on, however, for the rest of her life, most of that life will have been spent on the outside, in the wide world – cold and bright, uncertain and perilous, with increasing demands and expectations as she grows, separate from everyone including Mom. That's a big change to have to cope with, but we all did it and it must not have been too traumatic since none of us even remember it except, perhaps, on a subconscious, emotional level. Kiley seems happy enough.

        Kiley managed to reach another milestone recently, one that is essential to her ability to live in the wide world she now finds herself in. She has been crawling for sometime now and doing a good job of it. She's everywhere, into everything, and up to no good. Fast too, put her down and she's off like a shot. So I have to watch her and make sure she stays out of trouble. But that is nothing compared to the trouble she is about to get into because over the past couple of weeks, as expected, she has learned to stand and is beginning to walk. What a big girl! Generally, she still has to hold on to things when she walks, but she is already managing a few steps unsupported by anything but her own two feet. And she's doing that more and more often. Her legs are short and chubby but strong. I coax her with outstretched hands to walk to me, which she does with a few uncertain steps before falling into my arms – a moment of joy for both of us. It won't be long now until she's careening around the house with little skill but much determination, a true "toddler". Nothing will stop her now.

        The importance of walking can't be overstated. It's the way we get around in the world. And the way we humans do it is one of the things that set us apart from the other animals. (There are a lot of things about us that are unique in the animal world. We are strange creatures.) Unlike any other animal, we walk upright on two legs (I know birds walk on two legs but they don't stand erect and it's usually more of a hop than a walk, kangaroos too.) The advantages of standing and walking on two legs are obvious. It gives us the ability to see things at a distance at all times (our eyes are five feet off the ground). It limits our exposure to the sun (we have to lie down to get a good tan). It frees up our hands to do other things like carrying and throwing - no other animal can throw with speed and accuracy, a uniquely human ability and a distinct physical advantage over all other creatures. Kiley is already beginning to throw things, not with any speed and certainly not with any accuracy but already far better than any dog, cat, fish or bird ever will.

        The importance we, ourselves, place on our unique posture is illustrated by the phrases in our language that reflect it – "I'm taking a stand " - "I won't stand for it" - "Stand up to your enemies" – "I can't stand it" – "Stand and deliver" – "She's awfully stand-offish". Like flying to a bird or swimming to a fish, walking upright is one of the things that make us what we are. Maybe that is why we feel so proud of our children when they begin to do it. We actually get excited over it. I know I was excited when I first saw Kiley doing it and I'm not even her mother. Her mother and I talk about it in excited tones. We're absolutely thrilled. "Look, she's standing up! She's such a big girl!"  In a sense, what that really means is – "Look, she's a human being, she's one of us".

Nan