So, I was looking at some photos of Ezra the other day, and it hit me—that kid is basically a biological vacuum cleaner. If it exists on a floor, it is going into his mouth. And honestly, it’s a bit of a terrifying stage for a parent. Today’s prompt from Daniel is all about this everything-in-the-mouth phase, and he and Hannah are hitting that classic wall. On one hand, you don’t want to keep the kid in a playpen like it’s a Victorian prison, but on the other hand, cables and shoe soles aren't exactly on the recommended food pyramid.
It is the ultimate parental dilemma. You want to encourage exploration because, neurologically, that is how they learn, but the modern world is just covered in fire retardants and lead paint. By the way, speaking of modern tech, today’s episode is powered by Google Gemini one point five Flash. It is writing our script while we dive into the wonderful, slobbery world of oral-phase development.
I love that we’re using cutting-edge AI to talk about babies chewing on wooden spoons. But seriously, Herman, Daniel’s worried about the chemical side of this—BPA, phthalates, the works. Is he being a helicopter parent, or is there some actual science to back up the don't let him chew on the remote instinct?
It is definitely not just anxiety. The oral phase, which usually peaks between six and eighteen months, isn't just a quirk; it’s a massive data-gathering mission. A baby has about ten thousand taste buds at birth—way more than we do as adults—and the somatosensory cortex, the part of the brain that processes touch, has a huge representation for the mouth and tongue. To Ezra, his mouth is a high-resolution three D scanner. When he chews on a cable, he’s not trying to be difficult; he’s downloading data on texture, temperature, and density.
Wait, ten thousand taste buds? That’s wild. Why do they need that many? Are they basically tasting things in IMAX while we’re stuck with a grainy black-and-white TV?
In a way, yes. It’s an evolutionary survival mechanism. Before we had Best Before dates and nutrition labels, a baby needed to be incredibly sensitive to bitterness, which often signals toxins in nature. But that sensitivity also extends to texture. The tongue is actually more sensitive than the fingertips at this age. If Ezra puts a block in his mouth, he’s getting a much more accurate picture of its shape than he could ever get by just holding it with his hands.
So he’s a little scientist, but the lab equipment—meaning the apartment—is full of toxins. Let’s talk about the big one Daniel mentioned: BPA. We’ve been hearing about BPA-free plastics for a decade now. Is that still the main thing to watch out for when he’s gnawing on a plastic block?
BPA, or Bisphenol A, is the poster child for endocrine disruptors, and for good reason. It mimics estrogen and can interfere with developmental signaling. But here’s the nuance: most of the data on BPA leaching comes from food contact, like heating up a polycarbonate bottle. When it comes to mouthing a toy, the exposure pathway is different. A study published in Environmental Science and Technology in twenty twenty-three actually found that while BPA is a concern, the real final boss of toy safety is often phthalates.
Phthalates? Those are the things that make plastic squishy, right?
They are plasticizers. Because they aren't chemically bound to the plastic, they just migrate. When Ezra sucks on a soft PVC toy, his saliva acts as a solvent. That twenty twenty-three study found that mouthing soft plastic toys can transfer phthalates at levels ten to a hundred times higher than what they’d get from just eating food that touched plastic. That’s the real reason to be picky about materials.
But how does that work in practice? If the saliva is the solvent, does the temperature of the room matter? Like, if they’re in a hot Jerusalem summer, does the toy become more leachy?
Heat increases molecular motion. If a toy is sitting in a sunbeam on the floor and then Ezra picks it up and starts gnawing on it, the rate of chemical migration is significantly higher than if it were cold. This is why we tell parents never to leave plastic toys in a hot car and then hand them to a baby. The stink you sometimes smell on cheap plastic? That is literally the chemicals off-gassing. If you can smell the plastic, Ezra definitely shouldn't be tasting it.
Okay, so if the squishy plastics are the danger zone, what’s the safe haven? Daniel and Hannah are in a small apartment in Jerusalem, they don't have room for a giant padded cell. If they want to give Ezra fifteen minutes of safe independence without hovering over him like a hawk, what should they be putting in his Yes Basket?
First, let’s talk about the Yes Basket concept because it’s a lifesaver for small spaces. Instead of trying to baby-proof the entire universe, you designate a small area—maybe a two-by-three-foot rug or a yoga mat—and fill a low basket with seven or eight items that are one hundred percent safe to mouth. When you need to answer an email or make coffee, you put him there. If he grabs something, you know it’s fine.
I like that. It’s a Yes Space instead of a No world. But what goes in the basket? Daniel wants affordable. He doesn't want to spend fifty dollars on a hand-carved artisanal teething stick from a boutique in Denmark.
You don’t have to. In fact, some of the best items are in your kitchen right now. Let’s start with the gold standard: food-grade silicone. Specifically, you want platinum-cured silicone. It’s inert, it doesn't leach, and it can handle high heat for sterilization. A simple silicone spatula—the one-piece kind so the head doesn't pop off and become a choking hazard—is an elite sensory toy. It’s flexible, it’s got a handle for grip, and it feels great on the gums.
A spatula. Genius. I bet Ezra would love that more than a fancy rattle anyway. But wait, you said platinum-cured. How is a regular person supposed to know the difference between that and the cheap stuff at the dollar store?
There’s a simple pinch test. If you twist or pinch the silicone and you see white showing through the color, it usually means there are plastic fillers in it. Pure, high-quality silicone will stay the same color all the way through the stretch. Also, looking for the L F G B certification is a pro move—that’s the European food safety standard, which is actually stricter than the F D A standards.
Good to know. What about wood? My grandmother used to say wood is natural, but I’ve seen some cheap wooden toys that look like they’re covered in a suspicious yellow lacquer.
Your grandmother was half-right. Untreated hardwood—think maple, beech, or birch—is fantastic. It’s naturally antimicrobial, which is a huge plus when it’s covered in baby spit. There was a famous study at the University of Wisconsin that showed that bacteria like Salmonella actually die off faster on a wooden cutting board than on a plastic one. But you’re right to be wary of the finish. If you’re buying commercial wooden toys, look for water-based, non-toxic labels, or better yet, food-grade oil finishes like beeswax or flaxseed oil. A plain wooden spoon is a classic for a reason. Just make sure the handle is rounded and there are no splinters.
What if the wood gets wet and then dries out? Does it start to splinter over time?
It can. That’s where a little maintenance comes in. If a wooden toy or spoon gets fuzzy after being washed or slobbered on, you just give it a quick rub with some fine-grit sandpaper and a dab of olive oil or coconut oil. It’s like seasoning a cast-iron skillet, but for a baby toy. It keeps the wood sealed and smooth.
What about textiles? Ezra probably loves chewing on the edge of a blanket or a sleeve. Is there a chemical worry there, or is it just a laundry problem?
It can be a chemical problem. Conventional cotton is often treated with flame retardants or heavy-metal dyes. For a Yes Basket, go for organic cotton or undyed linen. A really great D I Y trick is to take a clean, organic cotton washcloth, dip one corner in water, and freeze it. It gives them different temperatures to explore—cold and wet versus dry and soft—and it’s great for teething.
That’s a pro tip. Now, Daniel mentioned the prison feeling of a playpen. In a small Jerusalem apartment, space is at a premium. If they’re setting up this Yes Space, how do they handle the transition from sensory toys to teething toys? Is there actually a difference, or is that just marketing?
There is a functional difference, though they overlap. A teething toy is designed for pressure. It’s usually dense and firm to help the tooth break through the gum line. Think of something like the Comotomo silicone teether—it’s about twelve dollars, it’s shaped like a hand, and it’s very firm. A sensory toy, however, is about variety. It might have different textures—nubs, ridges, soft spots, hard spots. For a nine-month-old like Ezra, you want sensory toys that happen to be safe for teething.
But doesn't the pressure of a teether actually hurt? Why would a baby want to bite down on something hard when their gums are already inflamed?
It sounds counterintuitive, but the pressure actually provides a counter-stimulus to the pain of the erupting tooth. It's called the Gate Control Theory of pain. Basically, the sensation of the hard object pressing against the gums travels to the brain faster than the dull ache of the tooth, effectively closing the gate on the pain signal. That’s why you’ll see Ezra gnaw on the leg of a wooden chair if he can’t find a toy—he’s looking for that dense resistance.
So, basically, anything he can cram in his mouth is a teether, but not everything is a sensory experience. What about the busy boards you see on Pinterest? People screw door latches and light switches onto a piece of plywood. That seems like a disaster for a kid who wants to taste the hardware.
I have a bit of a bone to pick with the standard hardware store busy board for an oral-phase baby. Most of those metal latches are zinc-plated or have lead traces in the solder. If Ezra is still in the lick everything stage, skip the metal hardware. Instead, make a Soft Busy Board. Take a piece of heavy cardboard or a plastic cutting board and use non-toxic adhesive to attach different textures: a square of silicone mat, a piece of silk, a bumpy washcloth, and maybe a large, smooth wooden ring. He gets the busy input without the risk of lead poisoning from a five-cent hinge.
I’m sensing a theme here: keep it simple, keep it food-grade. But let’s go back to the BPA thing for a second. You mentioned B P S earlier—what’s the deal with BPA-free plastic that's still... plastic? Should Daniel be suspicious of those?
This is what researchers call regrettable substitution. When the public got scared of BPA, manufacturers just switched to B P S or B P F. They’re structurally very similar and, in some studies, show the same endocrine-disrupting effects. In fact, some studies suggest B P S might be even more disruptive to the heart and nervous system than BPA was. If a toy is hard, clear plastic and says BPA-free, it might still be leaching something else. That’s why I always lean toward silicone, natural rubber, or wood for the high-intensity chewing items.
Wait, so BPA-free is basically a marketing half-measure if they’re just using a different version of the same chemical?
It’s like switching from one brand of cigarettes to another and saying it’s a healthier choice. The chemistry of plastics is incredibly complex, and the regulations often lag behind the innovation. For a baby whose brain is developing at the rate of millions of neural connections per second, you just want to minimize the total chemical burden where you can.
Speaking of natural rubber, I have to ask about the giraffe. You know the one. Every baby in the world seems to have that one specific rubber giraffe. Is that actually worth the twenty-five dollars, or is it just a status symbol for toddlers?
You're talking about Sophie la Girafe. It’s actually a fascinating case study. It’s made of one hundred percent natural rubber and food-grade paint. In terms of safety, it’s great. But is it worth twenty-five bucks? Maybe not. There are plenty of other natural rubber teethers—brands like Hevea make similar ones for about ten or fifteen dollars. The key is checking if it’s solid or has a hole. If it has a squeaker hole, moisture gets inside and grows mold. For a nine-month-old in a humid environment, I’d go for a solid rubber toy every time.
Mold in the toy... okay, new fear unlocked. How does that even happen? Is it just from the spit getting inside?
It’s the spit, but also the bathwater or the cleaning water. Once a drop of moisture gets inside a hollow toy, it’s a dark, damp, warm cave—the perfect incubator. If you ever see black spots inside a clear toy or smell something funky coming from a squeaker, toss it immediately. A good way to prevent this is to seal the hole of any hollow toys with a dab of food-grade hot glue before Ezra ever sees them.
That’s a great hack. Let’s pivot to something more appetizing. Daniel asked about food-based sensory play. If Ezra is going to put things in his mouth anyway, why not make them edible? Is nine months too young for that?
Nine months is the perfect age. At this point, Ezra is likely starting solids, so you can combine snack time with sensory time. Instead of just purees, give him exploration foods. Think of a large, steamed carrot—soft enough to mush but solid enough to hold. Or take a frozen banana and put it in one of those silicone mesh feeders. He can gnaw on it for twenty minutes. It’s cold, it tastes good, and it’s completely safe.
I’ve seen people use sensory bins with dry rice or beans. That feels like a choking hazard nightmare for a nine-month-old.
It is. Avoid dry rice, dry beans, or water beads at this age. They’re too small and too tempting to swallow. If you want a bin experience, go big. Use large, cooked pasta—like rigatoni or those giant shells. Toss them in a little olive oil so they don't stick. He can squish them, taste them, and if he swallows a bit, it’s just lunch. Another great one is edible sand made from crushed Cheerios or O-shaped cereal. It’s messy, but it’s a total sensory win.
Crushed Cheerios as sand. I’m imagining the cleanup in a small apartment, but hey, it’s better than him chewing on a power cord. But seriously, how do you manage the mess? If Daniel and Hannah are in a small place, edible sand sounds like a weekend-long cleanup project.
The secret is the mess perimeter. You put the sensory bin inside a larger, shallow plastic tub, or you lay down a cheap shower curtain liner first. When he’s done, you just fold up the shower curtain and shake it into the trash or the sink. It’s about containing the chaos, not preventing it.
Let’s talk about that hovering feeling. Daniel and Hannah feel like they have to be on top of him every second. Does the Yes Space actually work, or will he just crawl toward the nearest shoe anyway?
The trick is the boundary. In a small space, you can’t always wall off a room, but you can use visual boundaries. If he’s on his specific sensory mat and the basket is engaging enough, he’ll stay there longer than you think. The key is toy rotation. Don't give him all eight items at once. Give him three. Next week, swap them out for the other four. To him, it’s a whole new world. It keeps the novelty high, which reduces his urge to go look for a forbidden toy like the TV remote.
Speaking of forbidden toys, why are remotes and phones so attractive to them? Is it just because we’re always touching them?
Partly, yes—they mimic our behavior. Mirror neurons are firing like crazy at this age. If Ezra sees Daniel looking at a glowing rectangle for four hours a day, he concludes that the glowing rectangle must be the most important object in the tribe. But also, remotes have great sensory feedback. Clicky buttons, lights, a specific weight. If you want to satisfy that urge without giving him a battery-filled germ factory, look for silicone remote teethers. They’re shaped exactly like a TV remote, but they’re one solid piece of food-grade silicone. They’re usually about eight dollars on Amazon, and they’re a great diversion toy.
Does that actually work, though? Or do they know it’s a fake?
Some kids are smarter than others. If they see you using the real remote and then you hand them the silicone one, they might throw it back at you like, Nice try, Dad. The trick is to prime the fake one. Keep the silicone remote on the coffee table where you keep the real one. Let him steal it. If he thinks he’s getting away with something, he’ll be much more interested in it.
Okay, let’s do a quick reality check. We’ve talked about a lot of risks—phthalates, BPA, mold, lead. If Daniel or Hannah looks back and realizes Ezra spent twenty minutes yesterday chewing on a flip-flop, should they be calling poison control? How much of this is best practice versus immediate danger?
It’s definitely best practice and long-term risk reduction. One twenty-minute session with a shoe isn't going to change his life. The human body is remarkably resilient. The concern with things like BPA and phthalates is cumulative load. It’s the daily, multi-hour exposure over months. Pediatricians generally agree that the oral phase is essential for motor skills and sensory integration. The goal isn't to create a sterile, plastic-free bubble; it’s to make sure that the things he spends the most time with are the safest.
That’s a fair perspective. It’s about the Pareto Principle of baby safety—fix the twenty percent of items he uses eighty percent of the time. So, Herman, if you had to build the Ultimate Jerusalem Apartment Yes Basket for under thirty dollars, what’s the lineup?
Okay, let’s do the math. One: A high-quality silicone spatula from a kitchen store—five dollars. Two: A set of unfinished wooden rings or a plain wooden spoon—three dollars. Three: A Sophie alternative natural rubber teether—ten dollars. Four: A couple of organic cotton washcloths for freezing—five dollars. Five: A silicone remote or textured teether—seven dollars. That’s exactly thirty bucks, and it covers wood, rubber, silicone, and textile.
And for the two-minute setup, you just dump that basket on a clean mat and let him go to town. I love it. It’s practical, it’s cheap, and it respects the kid’s need to be a little explorer. But what about cleaning these things? If it’s a Yes Basket, it’s going to get gross fast. Do you have to boil everything every night?
Definitely not. Over-sterilizing can actually be counterproductive. There’s the Hygiene Hypothesis which suggests that a little bit of exposure to household germs helps build a robust immune system. For the silicone and rubber, a simple rinse with warm, soapy water is plenty. For the wood, just wipe it down. You only need to boil things if someone in the house has been sick or if the toy took a trip to a public park.
And it saves the furniture. One thing to mention for Daniel and Hannah: Jerusalem can get quite dry, and the wood in furniture can sometimes splinter if it’s old. If Ezra is eyeing the coffee table, you can actually buy silicone edge guards that are food-safe. They’re designed to protect the kid’s head if they fall, but they also make the table safe to mouth if he decides the corner looks delicious.
It’s basically just Ezra-proofing the world one silicone strip at a time. It’s about modifying the environment to fit the baby, rather than trying to modify the baby to fit the environment. At nine months, you’re never going to win the don't put that in your mouth argument. You win by making sure that when he does put it in his mouth, it’s a non-event.
What about the small stones in a bucket idea I saw in some of the research? That sounds like a classic sensory activity, but again... choking?
It’s all about the Toilet Paper Roll Test. If an object can fit through a standard cardboard toilet paper roll, it’s a choking hazard. For stones, you’d want something the size of a large lemon. Smooth, river-washed stones are actually a fascinating sensory experience because they’re heavy and hold cold temperatures differently than plastic. Just make sure they’re scrubbed clean and too big to swallow.
I’ve also seen people use those water beads. They look like candy, they’re squishy, and they’re all over Instagram. What’s the verdict on those?
Absolute hard pass. Water beads are a major safety hazard. If swallowed, they can expand inside the digestive tract and cause a blockage that requires surgery. They’re also often made of acrylamide, which is a suspected carcinogen. They are the opposite of what should be in a Yes Basket. If you want that squishy experience, stick to the cooked giant pasta we talked about earlier.
Good call. No surgery-inducing beads. I think that’s the key takeaway—don't fight the phase, just curate the environment. Ezra’s brain is doing exactly what it’s supposed to do. He’s learning that the world has different textures and tastes, and as long as he’s not tasting the lead paint from nineteen seventy, he’s probably going to be just fine.
He’s going to be great. This phase is actually a sign of a healthy, curious brain. By the time he’s eighteen months, this phase will start to fade as his hand-eye coordination takes over and he starts using his hands as his primary scanners. He’ll trade the licking for pointing and grabbing. But for now, let him be the little scientist he is.
I’m curious, though—does this oral phase ever truly go away? I mean, I still chew on the end of my pen when I’m thinking.
That’s a great observation. It doesn't really go away; it just becomes socially modulated. We call it oral fixation in adults. Chewing gum, biting nails, fiddling with a pen—these are all sensory-seeking behaviors that help us regulate our nervous systems. Ezra is just doing the unfiltered version of that. He’s using his mouth to ground himself in the physical world.
So he’s just a very small, very slobbery philosopher trying to understand the nature of reality.
And if reality happens to taste like a silicone spatula, then so be it.
Well, I feel better about my future as an uncle who gives babies spatulas for Christmas. This has been a deep dive into the slobbery science of Ezra’s world. I think Daniel and Hannah have a solid game plan now. Less stress, more silicone, and maybe a few frozen washcloths.
And a lot of laundry. Don't forget the laundry.
Oh, I think they’re already well aware of that part. Thanks as always to our producer, Hilbert Flumingtop, for keeping the gears turning behind the scenes and making sure we don't accidentally mouth the microphones.
And a big thanks to Modal for providing the G P U credits that power this show and keep our A I driven discussions running smoothly. It’s pretty amazing that we can use high-level compute to discuss the safety of a wooden spoon.
If you’re enjoying these deep dives into the weird side of parenting and tech, we’d love it if you’d leave us a review on your favorite podcast app. It really helps us find more curious listeners like you, and it keeps the algorithm happy.
And if you have your own Yes Basket hacks or a story about the weirdest thing your kid has ever tried to eat, send it our way. We love hearing from the front lines of parenting.
This has been My Weird Prompts. We’ll be back next time with whatever Daniel throws our way. Hopefully, it involves fewer chemicals and more giant pasta.
See ya.
Later.
