That’s what I said to Eryn this evening.  She’s been biting me.  Same boob. Over and over and over.  And usually with a sneaky gleam in her eye.

It’s either because she’s teething (number 5 showed up yesterday); just not interested because darn the pretty Kuwaiti mall lights, the world is suddenly so much more brighter, shinier, and filled with people wanting to smile at her; or it’s because I opted to go with a spouted sippy cup and she’s learning to bite to get liquid.  Before we’d just feed her water from a water bottle or straight from a cup. I thought the sippy would be just easier for travel.

And it’s not a “bite and won’t let go” manoeuver. Oh no.  It’s a “oh so you want to nurse me, do you? Well let me open wide for you, and just as I’m fooling you into a comfortable latch, I’m going to chomp down and let go before you can smother me with your breast. MUWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.”

Not pleased.