SOME people get a puppy to find out what it feels like to have a kid.

I, on the other hand, had a baby and discovered what it might be like to have a dog. Ever since my younger son, Lucien, started teething, he’s been gnawing everything in sight: Toys, books, furniture,  and – pity us – members of his family.

The Supportive Spouse and I would be sitting on the sofa, minding our own business, and our year-old son would crawl over innocently before proceeding to chomp down on our fleshy thighs with his very big, white and numerous teeth.

I should be feeling very glad that he’s getting enough calcium to grow strong, healthy teeth.

Instead, I sometimes feel terror when I hear my husband yelp in surprised agony, or see Lucien biting down on our helper’s shoulder when she carries him.

Consequently, many things in my home have acquired a nibbled look. Shoes and slippers are not safe with Lucien around.

He’s eaten small patches of leather from our moulting armchair. When I hold him in my arms, I am resigned to the fact that he chews on my necklaces and beads.

A limited-edition dog tag I got from a local artist’s museum retrospective was well and truly bitten by Lucien, in the way that gold-toothed moneylenders bite coins to ascertain if they are the real deal.

Looking at the scratches later, I wondered if the non-mint condition of the dog tag meant that I couldn’t sell it any more on the art-memorabilia market.

I decided it was worth more with my son’s priceless teeth marks on it.

While I know that babies bite in order to soothe their itchy gums, I am still amazed when it happens with mine.

I am fascinated by Lucien’s oral fixation. He puts almost anything into his mouth.

According to a child psychologist quoted on the popular Babycentre.co.uk parenting website, babies’ mouths have more nerve endings per square millimetre than any other part of
their bodies, so it’s really their most efficient tool for exploring the world.

Apparently, they go on putting things into their mouths up to two years of age. Oh boy, hand me the shin guards to protect against Lucien for the next year or so.

For some reason, my elder son, Julian, who is 41/2 years old, bypassed the biting phase. Perhaps, my firstborn child is a bit more cautious. I recall him putting food in his mouth only
after I’d put a similar item in mine, proving it was edible.

Then again, it could just be in the boys’ stars. A friend of mine, who analysed my children’s astrological charts, once told me that Lucien – owing to the positions of the planets at
the precise moment of his birth – is blessed with a voracious appetite, and appreciates good food.

“You don’t have to worry about feeding this one,” she pronounced approvingly.

Recently, we tried to divine something else about Lucien: His future occupation. On his first birthday, last week, we followed the Chinese zua zhou tradition, lining up a few objects for him to select. A dictionary, to represent a career as a scholar, civil servant or lawyer; money, to denote a future banker; shoes, to mean a budding explorer; and so on.

In the end, Lucien grabbed a calculator.

I guess that means he might become an accountant.

Maybe, when the time comes, he can calculate the sum of a parent’s love, as a function of damage to material goods.

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