Love Bites

Dear Laney,

A few days ago, you, your brother and I were all sitting on the couch together, watching a movie. Out of nowhere, your brother started screaming. I looked down and - at first - thought you were kissing his arm. But when I pushed your head back and saw a perfect purplish circle below his elbow, I realized that you had actually bitten him.

I yelled, "LANEY! Why did you do that?"  Asking a toddler to explain her motivations never pans out the way you want it to, but it's always my first instinct in these situations to ask what the hell you were thinking. My first instinct when Hagen throws up is to try to catch it, so obviously my instincts are on drugs.

The look on your face was one of shocked confusion - less like you were caught doing something evil, and more like you had been conducting an experiment that didn't turn out as planned. You refused to apologize, and so I sent you up to your room until you were ready to say you were sorry. You wailed and cried and tossed yourself around your room for 20 minutes before finally coming to your senses and apologizing to Hagen. I didn't really feel sorry for you, though, since two hours later, Hagen's arm still looked like this:

That night, at bedtime, you walked me into your room like a diligent tour guide and pointed, "This is where I cried."

- "Do you remember why you cried?"

- "Yeah. Because you shut the door."

- "Well, do you remember why I brought you up here in the first place?"

- "Because I need to say sorry to Hagen." (This is when I decided that you'd be well-suited to testifying before a Congressional subcommittee, because you're a master of responding to a question without actually answering it).

- "Because you BIT HIM, right?"

- (with tears brimming in your eyes) "But I just want to eat him."

I mean - what the - how do you - I just...

I never suspected I'd need to specify this, but here goes: 

Don't eat your brother.

Love,

Mom