THE BLOG
15/10/2013 07:53 BST | Updated 14/12/2013 05:12 GMT

Bite Size Memories

The Bear bites. He was teething and nipped; lips, cheeks, necks, collar bone and fingers. Word quickly spread of his clenching jaws. Our Bear was a nipper. Few could believe such an angelic boy, a font of joy would do such a thing.

The Bear bites. He was teething and nipped; lips, cheeks, necks, collar bone and fingers.

Word quickly spread of his clenching jaws. Our Bear was a nipper. Few could believe such an angelic boy, a font of joy would do such a thing.

Brother Bear, somewhat older and supposedly wiser, put him to the test and suffered the pain of it when Bear bit his arm. A teenager, he articulated several expletives then scrunched up his face and wagged his finger at Bear. 'No, no, no,' he said. 'No, no, no.' but Bear didn't understand.

Bear was confusing kissing with biting. It was funny at first. It was cute. Bear was making sure we all felt his presence by leaving teeth marks on skin, little passion indentations. It was a signature of sorts.

So it happened Bear cut his teeth on those who loved him. Brother Bear made the error of turning it into a game and would offer Bear his finger. He gathered his friends for this test of endurance. The Garden boys willingly lined up offering muddy fingers for the Bear to chomp on.

Soon enough his biting became a problem.

He said, 'My name is Bear and I am a biter.'

The Milk Lady consulted a Bear Book

Biting is not cute

Biting should not be encouraged.

Ignore and distract was the advice.

But Bear was distracted and ignored the advice.

Bear grew more teeth.

He kept on mistaking kisses with bites.

He trapped his mother's lips between his pearly whites.

He drew blood from his brother's arm.

Bear nestled into Daddy Bears neck and shoulders then lunged at him sinking his teeth into the skin.

'No, no, no' wagged lots of fingers.

Biting is not cute.

The Garden Boys washed their hands of him and went back to wrestling.

Slowly Bear began to get the message.

He became Chief Bear, a little Red Indian.

Wah, wah, wah. His hand rapidly tapping his open mouth.

'Is there a little Indian in my car?' asked the cabbie.

We were on the way to the airport.

Wah, wah, wah, went little Bear.

He blew raspberries

And made strange noises.

He began to crawl and extend his horizons.

He had his own toothbrush and eight ivories to polish.

Still there were lapses and nibbles attempted

Slowly, slowly, Bear stopped biting.

Two days after Bear's first birthday he looked at up at his teasing Brother Bear's extended finger.

'No, no, no,' he said and wagged his own.

Bite Size Memories is part of an adhoc series entitled Bear Adventures, as told by the Milk Lady.