The Preschool Biter

True Crime but Make It Parenting

He’s had a bad day

It was 2021.

We had to pick up the toddler from preschool. It wasn’t going well. Actually, it was going terribly. My sweet, empathetic child had somehow transformed into a biter. And not just any biter. A Grade 10 biter. This wasn’t a casual nibble; this was his go-to communication style. But, hey, not with us - well, except for that one time he took a huge bite out of my shoulder. And let me tell you, when a toddler bites your shoulder, the most normal human response is not “Oh, how sweet!” It’s more along the lines of, “I will throw this badger-sized toddler straight out the window.” (I did not throw him. I did scream, though. A lot.)

We had a biter. Fu*k. I did not see this one coming. We’re both “nice” humans, for heaven’s sake. My husband has a death stare so intense it could make a grown man confess to crimes he didn’t even commit. (I mean, seriously, it’s like the stare of a thousand judgments.) And me? I have a short temper, but as far as I knew, neither of us was walking around traumatising others with our sharp, gnashing teeth.

Here’s the thing: this is where I learned a valuable lesson. Before you decide to procreate with someone, you’ve gotta do a background check. You know, if you can. It’s all well and good to check the obvious boxes - kind? Good teeth? No signs of heart issues or murderous tendencies? Sure, check those. But here are some other traits I now know should absolutely be on the list. Or at the very least, things you should prepare for:

• Were they a biter as a child? (Spoiler alert: Their children may also be.)
  
  

• Did they get sick a lot as a child? (Because if you didn’t get the memo, toddlers are walking petri dishes.)
  
  

• Do they get car sick? (It can be hereditary… I’m the car sick kid.)
  
  

• Were they that kid who always chewed on their sleeves?
  
  

• Do they get cranky when they haven’t had a snack in two hours?
  
  

• Did they ever attempt to bite a stranger at an arcade while their mother loudly proclaimed, “I’m not even sure he’s mine!”? (Seriously, that’s a true story. But more on that in a second…)
  
  

Now, here’s the fun part. My husband? He was a biter. And he’d kept that little tidbit to himself for nearly a decade. But,, once, he bit a complete stranger. The stranger probably thought it was an attack from a rabid ferret. His mom? She apparently declared, “He’s not even mine. I’m fostering him.” Which, honestly, is a response that screams, “This wasn’t the first time this happened, and it won’t be the last.”

Being a parent is funny, though. I was raised to be perfect - to behave, keep up public appearances, and avoid any embarrassing displays of bad manners. But now? Now I’m learning that being a parent means unlearning everything I thought I knew about perfection. It means accepting that my kid is not an extension of me, and if he wants to run around at 2.5 years old biting other children, I needed to figure out why - and, you know, help him through it. You also need to be prepared for the daily shame at the preschool gate when you ask, “Did they have a good day?” and the response is always, “No.” The. Shame. I mean, seriously, if that doesn’t make you question your entire existence, I don’t know what will.

But let’s not skirt around the fact that he was hurting people. I’ve since heard from a reliable source (aka the preschool) that the other kids were being a bit rough with him. But, let’s face it - biting is a no-go for everyone involved. So, when we showed up, on the verge of tears, hearing that the day had been a bad one, guess what? He cried too. Because he knew the reward system (beautiful non-bitey reward system) was officially out the window. No ice cream. No treats. And that, my friends, is where the tears really started!

So, where am I going with this?

It was a phase. A phase I don’t ever want to relive. Honestly, it was a sh*tshow, and it got both my husband and I completely down as we felt like we had zero control over it. But here’s what actually helped:

1. His communication wasn’t great at that age, so when kids took his toys, he didn’t know how to handle it. Cue the teeth.
   
   

2. We worked closely with his preschool to figure out what was causing the rage moments.
   
   

3. We praised good, non-bitey behavior. (We did NOT focus on punishment - because, well, that would’ve just made him bite US more. Joking)
   
   

4. We also ended up rewarding him with an ice lolly every night for a while. You know, for positive reinforcement. (Parenting at its finest.)
   
   

Eventually, once he could communicate more, the biting stopped. It was a phase, a long one, but it ended. And you know what? I was worried he’d grow up into this rage-fueled, wild child. But guess what? He didn’t. He’s kind, loving, and, most importantly, not bitey. I’ll take that win any day.