Picking Pumpkins- sorta, part 3

That dark sky should have been omen enough for me to realize that yesterday was not a good day for pumpkin picking. But noooo, I wanted my cool photos. Luckily, I got a few before Miles had a Three Miles(s) Island style meltdown. All he wanted to do was crawl and kick the orange balls (ie pumpkins). When we first walked on the field, Miles did the sing for "ball" for a good two minutes. He didn't understand why he wasn't allowed to roll said "balls" around. Seeing that I don't know how to sign, "Hey kid, it's only a gourd," we had a rough visit. Miles was happy cruising around a clearing in the field, picking up old corn husks. It's cool- they are gluten-free. Tantrum, however, did ensue when we air lifted him out of the section of pre-picked pumpkins. It had to be done because little man was having a BLAST knocking the big orange "balls" into one another. The owners must have been shivering in their boots, or at least keeping silent tally on a calculator. Anyways, when I picked Miles up, he unleashed all of the frustration onto my upper left arm. As his weapons of choice were not fussy shrieks and tiny balled fists. Oh no, his four front teeth latched onto me Jurassic Park style. Surprise- he's a veloca-baby in disguise. I was so shocked that I couldn't even scream. He's never done that before- biting because he was mad. In silent anguish, I walked my bruised arm and ego to the car, quickly handed Miles over to Jesse, and proclaimed that I was too angry to talk for the next 20 minutes.

And the saddest part of all... we never got a pumpkin from the patch. Scratch that. The saddest part of all... my left arm still hurts today. Do you think I can pay a dentist to glue in a mouth guard into his mouth? Obviously for safety reasons- the safety of others' shoulders. I am seriously tempted to spend my afternoon writing a behavior plan. Could be baby's first BIP...

Skip to the end of the day following Miles' Mike Tyson impersonation (and the part of Evander Holyfeld's ear was played by my shoulder)- I am still a little rattled by the episode. He's been a bit squirrely all day, fidgety and fussy. Perhaps that's his toddler-way of saying, "My bad, mom. I still love you." Even if I am way off the mark on that reading, I am still believing it because I want to feel that my son loves me as a mommy and not as a stress release device. Any suggestions on how to curb a budding Count Dracula? I don't want biting to become his new form of communication.