Meal time with the little people is always interesting.
Tonight we decided to take advantage of the perfect weather and picnic at a local park. It wasn’t anything fancy… it was actually an impromptu treat. A treat for the kids, because picnics are always fun. A treat for Monte and me because there was no post-meal cleanup required.
The meal was pretty simple, just sandwiches and cheese and fruit. Easy stuff. Everyone seemed happy… even Benett ate everything. Gavin begged anyone within earshot for a ‘bite of theirs’ and Ellie bit into her sandwich with gusto.
As we were enjoying our surrounds and concentrating on our meal, Ellie began to squawk a little. I didn’t pay too much attention, to which she got louder… and started a flap her hands a little. I thought she was just excited about PB & J, who wouldn’t… but her squeaking turned to sheer panic. I started to pay attention.
This is all uncharted territory for me… but what happened next was harrowing.
Ellie had a bite of bread stuck to the roof of her mouth. She couldn’t get it down for the life of her. She was panic-stricken. I knew what I had to do… but the thought of having to stick my finger in her mouth to dislodge the bread gave me my own little panic attack.
Ellie’s not a biter… per se… but I also don’t trust that mouth full of big, solid, sturdy, sharpish teeth. But I’m the parent… so I had to. Gingerly, I poked at the roof of her mouth… nothing. That thing was stuck tight. So again, I stuck my finger in her mouth and just when the bread started to move she bit down. Yup. My finger. Yup. It hurt. I think there are still tooth indentations on my index finger.
We both learned a lesson. I learned to trust my gut… if something looks scary it probably is… precede with caution. And Ellie learned that it’s okay to bite the hand that feeds you… as long as the hand belongs to Mom.