I Was a Biter

My mom used to have a day care in our home. Mind you this was the early 1980’s and there were not state regulations for day care centers in your home. For the most part I think everything my mom did was fine. I do remember an area in our house where there were rocks for decoration. I do not know why my parents left the rocks there, you would think that would be crack for the babies she took care of, but it must not have been an issue.

I was the issue. I would go to school and come home to babies sleeping in my room, and lots of kids playing with my toys, AND my mom was not mine. Well, she was my mom, but she was mine to share during day care hours. A recap in case that was not clear to you. I had to share my bedroom (even if I already shared it with my sister), my toys, and my mom. It drove me crazy. So did one of the kids my mom watched.

I wish I could remember her name. What I do remember was two distinct memories of her. She would taunt me and tell me that her boyfriend was Michael Jackson. I was naive enough to believe her. She would tell me that Michael was going to come pick her up at the end of the day, and yes I believed her. Not that I ever was interested in dating Michael Jackson, it was the idea that she knew him, (or I believed she did). The second thing that pushed me over the edge (if sharing so much was already not enough), it was that she had butterscotch disks and she would not share them with me. Now to preface this, we only got treats and candy at my grandma’s house, so if someone brought candy to my house and did not share, well that was too much for me.

As you might have guessed by the title of this blog, I took the problem into my own hands. I bit her. I, the daughter of the day care owner, bit one of the kids. I got into so much trouble, not with my mom, but with my dad. You did not want to get in trouble with my dad. It sucked. Nothing changed after my teeth did their thing. I got into trouble, and well the girl, she kept babbling about Michael Jackson and bringing those butterscotch disks to my house. I had to stay away from her, she made me so mad. In hindsight, I can see now what strength and resilience I had (remember I was sharing my toys, bedroom, and mom – she could not even share a butterscotch disk from her stash). I do think she is the one that turned me into a biter though. I have to say I understand kids that bite a bit more.

The moral of the story. If you are going to have kids and a day care in your home, make sure your kids have a space of their own and a few toys that they do not have to share!

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4 thoughts on “I Was a Biter

  1. I’m surprised the girl’s mom kept sending her to the daycare. One would think perhaps the parents would start sending her to a different daycare, one where the owner’s children didn’t act like zombies. : )

    Fun post!

    Like

  2. This was clearly the 80s!!! No lawsuits, no child was placed on antipsychotics, no charges filed and everyone on both sides kept it moving. That would never happen today.

    Like

  3. Pingback: Gnawing or biting? | random olio

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