The sudden intake of air followed by the absence of sound is my cue that Freddie is about to scream.
I hear it and I head to the other room wondering if he's plowed head first into the wall, taken a dive off the ottoman or stepped on a wayward block with bare delicate feet.
We are visiting friends and before I can make it through the kitchen an into the next room, I hear Ainsley.
"Oh buddy, it's okay buddy. Big sister's here."
"What happened?" I ask.
Ainsley looks up at me, fire in her eyes, "Mommy, she just...she just...she just...did this to Fweddie." She angrily bites her own finger to show me.
I scoop up Freddie, who is screaming now and look over at the guilty party. She's not much bigger than Freddie. I kneel down and say "We don't bite. Okay? It's not nice to bite."
She's not my child and biting at this age, well it happens. Freddie has bitten his share of daycare playmates. I can't even see a mark on his finger.
But Ainsley is not willing to let it go.
"We don't bite!"
"You hurt my baby brofver. We DON'T bite. That is mean."
"He is just a baby, you could hurt him very bad."
"No biting." She's shaking her finger now.
"Okay Ainsley. That's enough."
She glares at me and waits for me to leave the room.
In a softer voice she continues, "I don't want you hurting my baby brofver anymore. We don't bite! Okay?"
I turn back and give her a look, but inside I'm kind of beaming with pride. My little mama bear sure does love her little Fweddie.
I'm linking up with Rebecca over at Musings of a Manic Mama on Friday. Go check out her site...