My father insisted on getting The Bhablet baby rusks. The Bhablet tried the first lot, decided they weren't worth the trouble and refused to have any more.
I tried telling my father that, but he turns a deaf ear to most things I have to say about his grandson (what would a mere child like I know?) and got him some more when he went to Singapore this summer. This time they were teething rusks, in long bar-like biscuits, easy for a baby to hold.
This evening I finally gave The Bhablet one. And I live to regret it.
He started out by refusing to bite the rusk -- although he bites everything else in sight, including the parts of me that he can reach. So he licked one end till it was soft and crumbly and then wiped it on me. Lick, wipe, lick, wipe -- it became fairly boring. And then he scratched the soft part and wiped his hand on me. Because we all know that's what I was born for.
After half an hour of this he smacked me in the mouth with the half that was still nice and hard. And then he decided to wipe the floor with it.
So I took it away. The Bhablet has been wiped down, but now I need a bath!
And while we're posting photographs, here is The Bhablet sitting on his toys. He probably finds it very comfortable. That would be just the sort of thing he would do.