With a title like that, some explanation is in order. You’ve heard them called ankle biters, or rugrats, but a new name has been invented for one of the youngest in the family. When our boys were small, it was a habit of mine to give them a nickname, just for fun, and in case they ever got tired of it, or the name given on their birth certificates, we could always change it to suit the times at hand.
Let me back up a little and give some history. Last August I had a problem with an infection on a toe. After a doctor visit, treatment, and a referal to a podiatrist, we determined it would just be better to remove a couple toe nails. The problematic things were removed just a few weeks ago, but my feet are getting old, and with a neurapathy problem, they heal slowly. Also with the neuropathy thing, I don’t have much feeling in them.
The other day, we decided the toes were healing enough to just let them air out, and leave the bandaids off. So there I was, relaxing with bare feet, doing much as I am now. Playing at my computer. I normally use a laptop and sit comfortably on the couch, and with the grand kids over it’s easy to put it aside and play with them.
As the little, not quite a year old, diaper filler crawled across the floor to me, I didn’t give him much of a thought. He’s easily fascinated by whatever may be on the floor. Even when there isn’t anything there, he is content to explore, or drag himself over to someone to pick him up. I knew he was coming my way, but when he usually might grab a leg and want attention, he was quiet.
I felt a little twinge in my toe, a rare occurance for me, and wiggling my foot, I could tell he had a hold of it. Suddenly, Robin noticed him as well. His hands were covered with blood, with a little trace on his face. How did he manage that? I don’t know. Did he bite my toe, or just pick at a scab? It’s hard to say.
I accused him of being a little vampire, and once the mess was cleaned up there were suspicious marks on my toe that resemble his one and only tooth.
It may be gross, or even tragic, but it’s also funny. The little tyke was fascinated by that pretty red stuff that was hidden inside grandpas foot. We had a hard time getting him away from the blood, because he thought it was fun to play in the messy liquid.
At least for now, he has won the nickname of, Vampire Toe Biter. Maybe it’ll stick, or maybe not, but it’s definitely one of those wierd baby stories to remind him of once he’s older, and needs to be embarrassed over his forgotten antics.