He bites.

This will be one of those posts that is difficult to write, and scary to publish.

The wee one likes to stick his fingers places they are not welcome i.e. eyes, ears, noses, and mouths.

Twice now, the big boy allowed the wee one a thorough examination of his mouth, but then unfortunately, something in his toddler mind shifted and he bit down hard on my baby's tiny, fat fingers.

Both times I have been within arm's reach, and had no idea what was going on. One minute they're cozily giggling and the next minute there's a horrible screech and that wail that tells me the baby is hurt, and hurt badly.

Twice.

Twice that horrible cry of pain, and that crippling, sinking feeling in my stomach.

There was a brief moment when I thought perhaps he'd broken his finger - so awful were the bite marks.

Twice I've yelled at the biting 3-year-old, sent him to his room in an inappropriate rage. The mama lion roaring inside of me - you hurt my baby.

Now I hover over the two of them, unable to turn my back for an instant.
"Don't touch him."
"Get away from him."
"Leave him alone."

I drag the baby with me everywhere - afraid to let him out of my line of sight for a second. How could I let this happen? Twice.

If I were a better mother, my son would know not to bite his defenseless baby brother.

If I were a good mother, I would have stopped the mouth exploration before it turned to biting. I would not have been distracted, relishing in a moment of peaceful playing between two siblings.

I am a bad mother, a lazy mother.  And now my selfish inattention has hurt my baby.

I cannot keep my children safe, even from each other. My most important job in the world, and I dropped the ball.

I do not post this so that you beloved folks will say, "It's okay Melissa - you're a good mom. Accidents happen" in some sad attempt to bolster my self esteem. I post this because like everything else I put out here - it's how I feel. And right now I'm feeling like a pretty worthless mama.