It happened on a sunny afternoon in the living room, where everything felt soft, warm, and perfectly safe… until it wasn’t. Baby Tilly, only ten months old and fully committed to exploring the world through drool and determination, was sitting on the carpet surrounded by her favorite toys. Mom-Mom Anna, her grandmother, sat nearby watching her with the kind of smile only grandparents can make—part pride, part wonder, and part amusement at the tiny human wobbling in front of her.
Tilly, in her usual adventurous spirit, reached for Mom-Mom Anna’s hand. She loved to gum on fingers—cold teething rings were fine, but fingers were apparently gourmet. Mom-Mom Anna laughed and gently wiggled her hand away.
“No, no, little one,” she said playfully. “Those teeth are coming in!”
But Tilly had a plan. With a determined squeal, she lunged again—not for a finger this time, but for Mom-Mom Anna’s arm. Before anyone could react, she latched on with all the power her tiny new teeth could muster.
Mom-Mom Anna yelped.
Tilly giggled.
Everyone else froze.
“Oh no! Mom-Mom Anna bites baby Tilly!” cried Uncle Jay from across the room as he jumped up—because from his angle, it absolutely looked like the opposite had happened. He rushed over dramatically, arms flailing, ready to rescue the baby from the supposed attack.
But there was no attack. Just Tilly, clamped onto her grandmother like a baby koala, happily chewing away.
Mom-Mom Anna tried to keep still, torn between laughter and mild horror. “I swear,” she said through gritted teeth, “she started it!”
Aunt Lily hurried over and gently pried Tilly’s little jaws open. The baby popped off with a satisfied “mmm!” as if she had just sampled a delicacy.
Tilly blinked up at the circle of concerned adult faces and gave them a wide, toothy grin—four tiny teeth shining like little pearls. Mom-Mom Anna rubbed her arm, which now featured a very dramatic, very pink baby-bite mark.
“Well,” she sighed, “I guess I’ve been officially tasted.”
The whole room burst into laughter. Tilly clapped, delighted by the reaction, completely unaware that she had just sparked a miniature family crisis.
From that day forward, anytime someone teased Mom-Mom Anna about being bitten, she would smile proudly and say, “That’s just Tilly’s way of showing love… very sharp love.”
And baby Tilly?
She continued teething—preferably on toys, occasionally on furniture, and hopefully never again on her grandmother.
