She Bites

Being awaken in the morning by a set of five mini-teeth firmly sunk in your nose is by far not a very pleasant experience, or normal, for that matter. People invented alarm-clocks for that very purpose. Yet, I find myself making quite generous exceptions these days. The little carnivore I am currently living with is growing her teeth and, consequently, has a bit of affinity with biting things, my nose included. On the good side, however, it does get me from a state of deep sleep into high battle-readiness in seconds; a feat comparable to Masai warriors of Africa.

The other parts of my anatomy are not exactly safe either. I was peacefully enjoying my dinner the other day when I felt a sharp pain on my left leg. Fighting off the impulse to violently shake my legs, I decided to look under the table. Sure enough, there she was, testing the consistency of my right calf-muscle with her fangs.

These random and unprovoked attacks are getting more frequent lately. I tried reasoning with her but I received some blank stares and intelligible mumblings for all my troubles. My effort to rigorously discipline her was met with eardrum-shattering cry and matching stamina. My comrade in arms, her mother, only shrugged and said something about it being a phase that she was going through.

My mind even refuses to contemplate what the next phase would be.