The Toddler appears to have a habit.  He has taken it upon himself to suck and chew his clothing, obsessively, whenever he is bored/relaxed/tired/engrossed.  We're talking damp sleeves up to his little dimpled elbows.  Should he be wearing short sleeves he'll suck and chew the neckline of his clothing instead resembling someone who's spilled a drink down themselves.  He's doing it right now, whilst watching Mickey Mouse.  It's driving me absolutely batty, We started reprimanding him for doing it, not only does it appear terribly disgusting it's also potentially ruining his clothing.  Then I pointed out to The Husband that he oesn;t appear to be doing it for attention nor for the sake of doing something naughty and I became to suspect it was some random comfort mechanism.  Epiphany central.  I actually asked the little cretin why he keeps doing it, he didn't know.  So I asked him how it makes him feel to which he replied that it makes him feel nice.  It feels nice.  So how on earth can we reprimand him for a habit that evokes a sense of comfort and positive emotion within him?  It seems to have started within the same time frame within which he's had a decline in day feeds on the breast.  We're rather hoping if we grit out teeth and ignore it he may grow out of it.  Sounds like a plan.

Or it would i it wasn't so painfully familiar.  Thing One is also incredibly orally fixated.  He too used to chew his sleeves and suck the collar of his school uniform making it look ragged, discoloured an quite frankly vile.  It's one thing at home yet another whilst at school.  If it's not his clothing it's his fingers. Usually whilst watching tv or in bed at night. The corner of his bedding is mangled from being sucked an chewed and even his bloody curtains had been sucked an chewed at the corner.  At one point I sprayed tea tree oil on his school collars to stop them going in his mouth!  Still, it's marginally preferential to his winter licking syndrome where he licks around his mouth so much it turns bright red and looks alarmingly awful. When he was a baby he'd suck the tail of a soft toy yet refused a dummy. Bare in mind these aren't nervous nor unhappy children, they're content, expressive and happy... just terribly orally fixated.

Does your child having any comfort habits?  How do you deal with them?

Stumpy

Other than the bath my other favourate place is predictably the bed.  This is all well and dandy or should I say it would be yet my bed unfortunately has a tragic form of terminal zombieitis. It died a long time ago yet joined the ranks of the undead and has been losing limbs and randomly trying to devour me ever since. By devour, I'm not talking in a yes please Mr Eric Northman kind of way, this is more of a scabby rabid coyote with a steak kind of way.

The mattress is my twin insofar as to say it's considerably lumpy, bumpy and decidedly saggy yet it pokes, prods and nips like one of those bloody yorkshire terriers or worse still, The Husband. One of the slats long ago broke followed by another resulting in the bottom of the bed being supported by old storage containers to prevent it collapsing.

Yet two weeks ago the bed underwent emergency surgery carried out by Doctor Husband and an old bent saw resulting in necessary amputation. The footer of the bed had come away at one end yet clung on like some starving parasite at the other side due to The Husband previously buggering up the screw making it bloody impossible to remove and dismantle.Arse.  So what we now had was the equivalent of a large swinging metal gate that The Toddler loved to include in his kamikaze stunts. Accident waiting to happen not to mentioned terribly noisy. So, out came the saw. The foot of The bed removed it left an ugly protruding stump of sharp metal, how divinely fetching. Dr Husband then expertly dressed this with a towel and gaffer tape. Yes, really. He's quite the improviser. My bed is now affectionately called stumpy.

It's not done too badly really. It was a cheap bed and mattress to start with, over eight years ago, as we were perpetually skint (some things never change) and my great aunts rather kindly paid for it for an engagement gift. We were happy though as we had a new bed, new! Better still it was handcufftastic and king size. Hell yeah! This was shortly before they brought out super-king-size you know just to piss on your parade, a bit like when you got an A in your GCSES then the bastards introduced A*'s just to ensure your achievements are rendered that little bit more futile.

I dream of a new bed. The Husband and I often debate four posters versus water beds though quite frankly even a camp bed would be an improvement for the sofa relegated husband.

In all honesty I'd be happy with any bed and for once in my adult life, a decent mattress. I have been positively lusting over sites such as 1907 Beds.

Still, the old bed has done us well seeing us through three pregnancies, one miscarriage, 4 years of co-sleeping, illness, depression and three exuberant and very bouncey little sods children and it will have to continue to do so as unfortunately It's at the bottom of a very long list of things that need replacing such as the dead computer, The half dead dyson, the dying toaster, the dead tumble drier, the dying television etc

...and It's still one of my favourate places to be.