A piercing shriek shattered the relative calm of our household this Saturday afternoon. Fainjin came running to me, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“Babess [sob] bit me! [sob]”.
“Babess!” I summon her while I grab the hand he is clutching, to check for damage. “Did you bite Fainjin?!”
She eyes me rebelliously. “No.”
“Then how did he get hurt?” I find some very clear, very small toothmarks on his finger. “Oh, look at these marks!”
She shakes her head, then realises I know she is not innocent. And she can’t argue that her brother is not hurt. He has stopped howling, but is quietly sobbing, his eyes still streaming. She has bitten him hard.
“He got… hurt… by… [looks around the room for inspiration, finds none]… my tongue.”
A brief discussion ensued, hugs were exchanged, she acknowledged that biting hurts (of course, that’s why she did it!) and is not nice and is against the rules. Fainjin dried his tears and they went off to play together.
But not before The Dad and I had to look away and not meet each other’s eyes lest we burst out laughing. She gives a whole new meaning to “sharp-tongued”.
© UpsideBackwards 2011.