Teeth

My dear, beautiful baby Will.  He really is the happiest, snuggliest, sweetest baby.  I am so thankful for him and continue to be amazed by how much I love him.  He is growing so big and learning so much.  He is already eager to eat table food and loves to hold food in his hand and feed himself.  His second tooth has just broken the surface of his gum and those two tiny, little teeth are so ridiculously adorable.  And ridiculously sharp. Those teeth will likely bring an end to breastfeeding.  I was fully prepared for a nibble every now and then. I nursed Sam and Jack well after their teeth arrived.  Eight months to be exact.  And and in the name of fairness, I so desperately want to nurse Will for an equal amount of time.  But I just don't know how much longer I can do it. Because Will doesn't occasionally deliver a harmless nibble.  No, he bites.  And I mean hard.  He has actually drawn blood and caused my eyes to fill with tears many, many times.  He bites and I scream.  My screaming in turn scares him.  He flails his body in panic and cries hysterically.  I am in a constant state of fear. I am anxious and frightened the entire time he eats.  I whisper to him, "Please don't bite, Please don't bite." That one tooth could be labeled as a weapon.  Seriously, he could eat peanut brittle with that little chomper. So I'm hoping he learns that there a certain things he shouldn't use his teeth on.  Like his Mama.  Two more months, sweet boy. Two more months and you can bite holes in every bottle I give you.