Chomp.

The kids have entered a more, umm, let's say, physical stage in their interactions in the past few weeks. I honestly think it's because Colin isn't taking Gillian's crap any more. In the past, he wouldn't care if she stole a toy or wouldn't share; he would just walk away and find something different. Well, no more of that. Now, he hits her. On the head. I've been using the phrase "Gentle Hands" A LOT. Oy.

Well, on Wednesday afternoon we were waiting for Daddy and dinner and, I thought, the kids were playing with their pillows in the living room. I could see them out of the corner of my eye, and hear their giggles. Next thing I know, Colin is screaming bloody murder and Gillian looks pleased as punch. When I looked him over, he had a bite mark right on his left cheek. Yikes. So, Colin got hugs and Gillian got a serious time-out. I think Colin got over it before Gillian did.

Me: "Did you bite him?"
Gillian: "Yeah."
Me: "Was that nice?"
Gillian: "No." CRY, CRY, CRY. SNOT, SNOT, SNOT. TEAR, TEAR, TEAR.

She did say sorry and tried to hug him. He refused the hug. Smart boy.

At bedtime I took a quick shot of her damage. It's still bruised today.