I feel as though I've aptly documented my sometimes warped perception of reality. I'm about to add another statement to support my case. You see, when preparing for Kaleb's birth, and gearing up to give breastfeeding the ole college try, I had this mental picture of how things were going to go. It went like this: I would go in the nursery and nurse Kaleb. Gavin would stay in the living room, playing quietly, until I was finished. Thus, he'd never see me breastfeed.
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.
Yeah, . . . not so much.
For the most part, it hasn't been to weird, and I haven't had to answer to many uncomfortable questions.
I mean, there was, "Mommy, why do you feed Kaleb from your tummy?" My tummy? Sweet! I don't have to explain boobs to him! "Because, Gavin, that's just how I feed him."
End of story.
"Mommy, why don't you feed Kaleb with a bottle?" Because I don't. And that was good enough.
He clearly doesn't think much of it, either, because he begs me to stay in the living room to feed his brother rather than going somewhere. Honestly, I think this is because it's too hard to talk to me if I'm in another room. If I'm in the same room, I can "look-Mom-watch-this" the whole time I'm nursing.
So, all was well . . . until the other day . . .
when he took his shirt off . . .
. . . and he pointed to his nipples . . .
and he said, "Look Mom, I can feel my baby food in here."
Uh . . .
Yeah, you see, your body doesn't do that. You're a boy. Boys don't make baby food.
Which is what I maybe should have said. But that would have been followed up by, "Why don't boys make baby food? How come you make baby food and I don't?"
So, instead, I just, "Awesome!" and left it at that.
I'm sure it's only a matter of time until I walk in and find him trying to feed his brother . . .
It’s (not) Flag Day.
1 day ago