# 9 Confessions of a Girl Scout/Batgirl/Vampire
Sure sometimes I used my fangs for evil. But sometimes I used them for good. When evil struck I'd swoop in and defend the righteous! Fend off the foe! Save the day! Sort of Girl Scout/Batgirl hybrid.
Sadly, there is no badge for "Biting" or "Superhero Skills"
Take this one time, when I was about 5, and my brother 7, a bunch of us were playing "school" (as we did many summer days. Go figure . . . ) I was playing "teacher" this particular time. (No surprise to those of you who know me well, but I almost always played "teacher".) Anyway, this particular day, my brother was playing, too. And some bigger boys,--5th graders--came along. One of them started teasing my brother because he was "playing sissy school with babies."
The boy started pushing my brother. Joe pushed back. A fight broke out. An completely unfair fight, I must add here. A case of big mean bully picking on a weaker guy. Never fear. Girl Scout/Batgirl swooped in and bit the kid on his back. And kept biting-- clamping down as hard as those spiky, sharp baby teeth can--until the boy let go of Joe and ran away.
The big boy ran crying all the way home and told his father. Who came back, very indignant, to find the "bully who had bitten his son!" We were back to playing school then. A hush fell over the group. Then Girl Scout/Batgirl stepped forward. "I bit him!" I announced. "Cause he was picking on my brother."
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Confessions of a Vampire Baby's Victim #8
Mary Chapin Carpenter sings a song called "The Bug" (written by Mark Knoffler), it goes: "Sometimes your the windshield/sometimes your the ball. . . . "
That's how it is with babies, too. Sometimes of us are biters. And the rest of you are, well . . .
Take my friend, author Anne Broyles, reading her books, seeing her, knowing her, you'd never suspect her of being a biter. . .
Just released! Sure to become one of those we-read-it-every-year Christmas stories (illustrated by KE Lewis, Pelican)
In keeping with the season: A Russian Immigrant family's first Halloween in the U.S.
. . . And you'd be right.
That didn't prevent Anne from becoming a Vampire Baby's victim though. Here's her story:
"When I was three and a half, my family hosted a family with a toddler. I had a great time lugging this "baby" around and feeling like the "big kid." She was the same size as my doll, but talked some, could play chase, and seemed to adore me. So it was a shock when one day she brought her sweet face in close to mine and...chomped my cheek. It had never occurred to me that another human being would bite me, especially someone who I thought had loved me so much.
I pushed her off of me and yelled for my parents. I vividly remember not so much the pain (though I had teethmarks on my cheek for a while) as the betrayal of that baby's teeth. From then on, I ignored the visiting toddler and stuck with my doll, who was about the same size as the baby, but never, ever, not-even-once bit me."
3 1/2 year-old Anne and her "trusty" friend
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After, after, after you Enter the Contest: Here's Mary Chapin Carpenter singing "The Bug"
#7 Fangs! Some Do and Some Don’t . . .
Further Confessions of a Baby Vampire #7
Long,
sharp pointed fangs? Some biting babies have them, and some don't.
I don’t “tell” what I’m writing until I've written a solid draft. With VAMPIRE BABY it was different. For some reason—even when all I knew was the title—I needed to say it. It may have been my way of claiming it. “Dibs! Vampire Baby is my title! Mine!”
To my surprise, folks—lot of them—started sharing stories of their “vampire babies,” ie babies who cut their canines first. Which got me thinking about fangs:
Sweet Baby James is definitely NOT a Vampire Baby--although he does play one in the VAMPIRE BABY Story Hour Kit!
Which got me thinking about Mike Smith.
Mike was a nice guy. Cute, too,(even if he was a head shorter than
I ever was). Except for his teeth. . . They were tiny, pointed and needle-sharp.
Don’t bother looking for a man named Mike with teeth like that. You won’t find
him. (At least not that Mike). Rumor has it, between junior and high
school he had all his teeth yanked and got dentures.
And my 2-month-young, adorable grandbaby, Bennett. We do have that photo of him biting his dad. . . Could Bennett turn Vampire Baby? Is it hereditary???
Barely 2-days-new and Bennett's displayed Vampiric characteristics
Trying to keep a level head, I did a quick Internet search on fangs:
I discovered that "Genes are estimated to account for about 70% of the variation in primary tooth development" (from 23andme.com).
So I kept clicking around. And while my internet search turned up a kazillion articles on teething and the order in which baby teeth "usually" erupt, I couldn't find anything about a genetic link.
And, I learned about a frightening genetic condition that can cause vampire fangs. It's called Congenital Ectodermal Dysplasia and results in "minimal to no growth of teeth in the mouth." (From Tech E Blog). There were slews of articles on the subject. And photos:
Simon Cullen, 13, and his brother George, 11
Further clicking turned up an article in Knoji Consumer Knowledge entitled "The Genetics of Vampires": which explains how Vampires are descended from a "genetically older form of human that had a higher DNA count from the beginning. . . at some point the human acquired an exogenous piece of DNA from a virus or another source. This piece of DNA could have then become the vampire DNA" who were, due to a hostile environment, forced to live underground and thus isolated evolved into Vampires.
Run-of-the-mill "stock photo" of a vampire--maybe one of those who was born and not turned
Now totally freaked, my laissez faire attitude squelched, I did what I should have done from the start and went to the real experts: Moms!
With centuries of experience who has seen more teeth errupt? Who better to ask about the emergence--or not--of fangs?
A search on Circle of Moms blog turned up a strand of mom comments longer than a double-helix discussing the order in which baby teeth erupt.
The consensus: "Relax. Don't worry about it. Fangs happen!
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#6 I Was Aiming for the Wooden Spoon and Missed . . .
Confessions of a Kindergarten Vampire #6
Single mother of two before she was 22, my mother was what you politely call "strict." A staunch believer in the adage "spare the rod, spoil the child" any weapon at hand--fly swatter, shoe, yard stick, wooden spoon--served as her "rod" when she was riled. Rather than heed warning and curb our mischievous ways, my brother and I hid the various weapons under the couch and carried on . . .
While I do remember a repairman pulling out our gold vinyl couch and finding--to my mother's mortification--a grand assortment of "rods" hidden beneath it, I don't recall this episode. But everyone else in the family seems to. And it has always filled me with a sick sort of prideful remourse, so I'll share it here.
Mother Mary Ellen, 23 and gorgeous! In my defence, she was weilding a wooden spoon
The story goes that one Saturday afternoon, my mother was in the kitchen, whipping up a batch of pancakes, when my brother Joe, then about 3, committed some offense. While she was stirring and reprimanding, I crawled into the room, across the floor, and using her leg to steady myself, pulled up to a standing position, turned my face into her leg, opened wide and bit down! And, she says, smiled while she cried and hollered for me to let go. . .
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#5 Is it . . . In The Blood?
Confessions of a Baby Vampire #5
Out of consideration of the faint-of-heart the "red eye removal" feature has been applied to this photo. (Don't let the lack of fangs fool you: the Twilight Vamps have retractable fangs, too.)
Although it doesn't say it anywhere in the book, the main character in VAMPIRE BABY does have a name. He's named after my nephew, Devin. Devin, shares a common root with devil. No one would ever, ever call Devin a devil-child now--he's a top student, vice-president of his school, football player, all around nice guy--now, I say, because there was a time . . .
When my sis-in-law, Joanne, told me about Devin and "that time" she was called into the principal's office, I received the news with a mixture of relief and anxiety. After years of being the only "biter" (whispered from the side of their mouths from behind their hands, and with a shudder of disapproval) it was comforting in that misery-loves-company way to know I wasn't the only one. And a bit worrisome thinking it might be---cue the music dum-du-dum-dum-duhhhhhh-- in our blood.
A quick click through the internet (repository of all knowledge true and not) I'm not the only one worried that vampirism might be hereditary. According to an article from the Pravadaru Post, "Lee Eallis, a British physician, came up with a theory that linked the so-called vampires with porphyria, one of a group of rare inherited disorders due to disturbance of the metabolism of the breakdown product of the red blood pigment hemoglobin. In 1963, Eallis submitted his monograph titled On Porphyria and Etymology of Vampires to the Royal Society of Medicine."
So according to reports, a classmate named Casey "turned" Devin. It happened in Kindergarten, near the "house" corner or the "coloring" corner. Stories vary as to the location and time, as they do regarding the exact incantation Casey used to bring about Devin's transformation. All parties agree on one point. Consistently agreeable, smiley, all around good guy, Devin, turned around a sank his fangs into Casey's back. And when it was all over, even after being sent to the principal's office, even after the authorities were called, and threatened with expulsion and unimaginable punishment, Devin refused to repent. "You deserved it!" was his only defense.
Check out long, sharp, pointed fangs . . .
I'll leave it to you to decide: Is biting a symptom of some rare inherited vampiric disorder or is it simply a matter of being a nice guys last resort?
One last word on the subject. This is Devin's family dog. His name is Mr. Fangles
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#4 I Didn't Mean to Hurt Him . . .
Confessions of a Baby Vampire #4
Oh the glee with which my mother relays baby vampire stories . . . I don't recall this every happening, can't imagine myself doing it, but, the story goes that my brother Joe . . .
Confessions of a Baby Vampire #4
Oh the glee with which my mother relays baby vampire stories . . . I don't recall this every happening, can't imagine myself doing it, but, the story goes that my brother Joe love, love, loved his baby sister. And he loved to give me squeezes and lovies. One day, he bent close to do just that and CHOMP! I bit him, clamped down on his bottom lip and would not let go . . .
My brother Joe, 3 years old. He was a loving big brother
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#3 Jerry Started It . . .
Confessions of a not-so-baby Vampire #3
Me, our neighbor, Jerry, and Joe riding the bucking mule at Knott's Berry Farm
Jerry, lived across from us in the next building. Mostly, Jerry was my brother's friend. Sometimes, Jerry was my friend, too. (Especially when they were bored.) One summer day, the three of us decided to run away. While Joe and Jerry stood guard, I sneaked in the kitchen and packed the lunchbox and we set off. We walked and walked for like a hundred miles. When starvation set it, we climbed into a massive sewer pipe section which had been left in a ravine. When I had to pee, the boys stood guard, I did they same for them--just in case we were being tracked by marauders. Along the way, we kept watch for bottles. (Back then bottles could be returned for a deposit of 5 or 10 cents). We found a few (maybe 2?) and stored them in the now empty lunch box, which we took turns carrying. As dusk, we found ourselves near the grocery store. Rations depleted, we raced to the store to cash in our bottles. As it happened, I was holding the lunch box. As we neared the entrance, Jerry tried to snatch the lunch box away from me, so . . . I bit him.
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#2 Her Favorite Food are Red, Blood-red . . .
Confessions of a Not-So Baby Vampire #2
Having lived all my 8 years near the strawberry fields of California--"The Fruit Bowl" "Salad Bowl" or "Paradise" Nanny called it, depending on the season--moving to Pennsylvania, arriving Christmas Eve, in a blizzard, was . . . an adjustment. My mom says my brother and I "cried because we couldn't go outside." (I think she's being a bit dramatic...) The sentiment was true enough. I especially missed the abondanza of fruit: red delicious (although mealy) apples, plump red plums, juicy red raspberries, and most of all, heaping crates of field-sweet strawberries so ripe the juices ran blood-red down my arm when I bit one.
In our Easter outfits, check out those gloves and my groovy handbag!
So that first Easter in Pennsylvania, when mom surprised us with a fresh strawberry pie, well, who could blame me?
After double-checking no one was near, I plucked a big red strawberry dripping with glaze from the back of the pie and ate it.
Blood-red desire for more drove me to do something I knew I shouldn't.
I sneaked back into the fridge, plucked another strawberry out of the pie. Held it poised over my mouth and bit off the bottom. Then I tucked it back into the pie, stem side up. The glaze settled in nicely around it. None would have been the wiser if I'd stopped at one. But I didn't. Couldn't. Again and again I sneaked back for more.
Who will notice a missing bite or two. . . Pass the whipped cream, quick!
By the time it was served, the pie had shrunk in size by half. I held my breath and hoped no one would notice. And they didn't seem to, not until my mom served up the first slice and several bottomless strawberries tumbled out.
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