I completely understand the whole teething thing, but I am forever amused by the things kids choose to use to alleviate their discomfort. I've even seen adults who aren't teething have chewing obsessions on everything from ice and toothpicks to Velcro, sleeves and hair. Even though I'm forever telling people "Get that out of your mouth." I still manage to chew on my own fingers like they were beef sticks...thanks for that habit mom. I haven't had nails since I was five.
It seems my family are a bunch of chewers. I was under the assumption I was from German and Irish decent but apparently my ancestors were beavers.
As much as my mom will hate this, I think she started it. She has always bit off her fingernails. She says it's A nervous habit, but at least she's reasonable about it, after all she stops when she hits the cuticle. That isn't even the worst part of my mothers chewing issues as she once informed us that when she was a kid she would bite off her toenails. I don't know what about that freaks me out the most; biting the toenails or knowing my mom was that flexible once.
My dear mother passed it down to her children. As I have already shared, I personally enjoy a good finger when I'm nervous or concentrating on something, but my sister was a different story. Imagine being a parent, waking up and going to take your sweet little girl from her crib only to find she had eaten it. It was something my parents could not prevent no matter what they did. She had first eaten the varnish off the crib, then she proceeded to gnaw on it until it looked like it was dam worthy. Every morning her mattress and the floor seemed to be covered in shaving. Looking back it kind of reminds me of what happens when you give a hamster a chew block. And of course she's the one who lucked out with perfect teeth.
My eldest was also a fine connoisseur of wood. He had taken a liking to my coffee table and even picked a favorite corner on which to snack. No matter how many times we shooed him away, washed the table or covered the corner he would find his way to it and gnaw away. The biggest problem was that I liked to put my feet up on the table. This would sometimes be a problem for him since I seemed to be in his way. So in order to be sure I understood my place, and that the table was his he'd bite my toe to make me move before fastening on his napkin and sitting down to brunch. I wish I had known I was an appetizer I would have prepared a sauce. I'd of course politely inform him that if he wanted the table he needed to call ahead.
The younger one had a couple of favorites. I would come home from work; hug the boys, goose the wife, sit down in my chair and reach over to grab the remote...and sure enough I'd be slimed. My beautiful remote would be completely covered in baby demon saliva. On more than one occasion we'd be sitting down watching TV and suddenly the channels would start changing leaving us looking for poltergeists, only to find a very content child eating my remote and smiling. I never liked explaining to the cable company why we needed yet another remote so I just told them it was the dog.
When we eventually broke him of his taste for the remote, by hiding it in places that we could never remember, he found a replacement, and we called him Kenny. My oldest son had a very large collection of wrestling action figures, dozens of wrestlers that I brought home for him constantly. He had so many I couldn't keep track, but the little one, he knew what he wanted and it was Ken Shamrock. Out of all the action figures available he picked that one, and ONLY that one to be his new chew toy. He would not give it up, or even trade it. My son begged and bargained "Here take Hulk Hogan instead, look he's all yellow and stupid" but no, only Kenny would do. He would run around the house with Kenny hanging upside down from his clenched jaw smiling and drooling while making happy "Guuuuh, Guuuuuuuh" sounds. It reminded me of a 50's stop motion movie where the dinosaurs would start eating people and they'd be hanging off giant teeth. I sometimes felt bad for Kenny and his mangled foot.
We had all the teething rings you could buy for both the boys but they were instantly discarded in favor of tastier fare. We'd hand the boys those lovely teething rings that you put into the freezer all nice and cold begging to be chewed on. They would grab hold all wide eyed and anticipatory, making happy cooing sounds, only to bounce them off our forehead ten seconds later. It's not much different then when you buy your kids some expensive toy and they only want to play with the box. I thought about going into business making teething rings that kids would actually like, maybe in flavors like Oak, the corner of books, molded plastic and table leg, but so far no investors. My boys are growing up healthy and strong so I guess it didn't do any permanent harm, so who knows maybe kids need a daily recommended dose of furniture.
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