Dream: I’m comfortably snuggled in Mommy’s bosom. I can always relax to the point of falling asleep in this cozy embrace. I cross my legs at my ankles, burrow into her warm chest, and fall asleep listening to Mommy’s heart beat. This is heaven!
Reality: I wake up ready for my milk. Daddy greets me at the crib. Where is Mommy? I love seeing Daddy but not until after I’ve had my morning fix. I can’t function until I have my milk in me. I pound my fists and sob uncontrollably. I start to circle the apartment looking for Mommy. Daddy keeps chasing me with a sippy cup filled with cow’s milk, but I want liquid gold from Mama’s babas. I know they’re here somewhere. She rocked and sang me to sleep last night and she’s never up before I am. So I storm into room after room looking for her but no Mommy in sight. I fall to the ground hysterically crying for Mama’s babas.
You see, Mommy nursed me since I was a newborn. Despite many obstacles and unwelcome commentary, she persevered. It was one of our first bonding experiences and she stuck with it, nourishing me into a beautiful and strong little lady. Not only has it boosted my immunities, but it also helps me ward off diseases, allergies, and other health risks.
Also, Mommy’s milk tastes fantastic! No, really. It’s new and exciting depending upon what she eats. Her diet makes the milk take on flavor nuances; my taste buds practically dance. I’ve had osso bucco milk, sushi milk (better than it sounds), spicy curry milk, but my favorite is Oreo milk. I hear cookies and milk are a perfect match, no?
Besides the milk being delicious, it’s so comforting for Mommy to cuddle me close every time we nurse. She twiddles my hair and lets me put my feet on her chin. If anyone dares to interrupt us, I quickly unlatch and glare. It always does the trick. I get her all to myself. Is that so wrong?
But for the past several weeks, I can’t help but notice that I’m being offered the babas less and less. I’ve learned to love my sippy cup, but there’s no milk like Mommy’s milk. I don’t know why it’s being slowly taken from me. Sure, I’ve bitten a few times, but Mommy never deprived me of her babas after a tiny bite from me. And no matter where we went, she always offered them. On airplanes, trains, and automobiles, at home and on vacation. I did start playing peek-a-boo with the hooter hider exposing Mommy by accident on occasion, but she always seemed to laugh it off.
At first I thought maybe the babas were broken. I’ve seen my toys break and come back to life with new batteries. I tried sneaking batteries into Mommy’s brasserie, but it didn’t work. My sippy cup sometimes needs a shake to get the milk out, so I tried the shaking method. No such luck. I observed the sink stop running hot water and Daddy fixed it, but he doesn’t seem to be fixing my babas even though I know he likes them, too. He always thanks me for giving them to Mommy. And I asked very nicely for the babas. Until now and that brings us to my tantrum.
While I may not have mastered the verbal skills needed to articulate what I want, I have this whole body language thing down and know how to say “give me those babas.” I keep asking for them, but it’s as if they don’t want to listen. Is this practice for when I ask for a pony? Is this some sort of awful prank? I don’t get it.
I begrudgingly drink from my sippy cup. Daddy told me he put chocolate milk in it, but I keep asking for Mommy’s brand instead. Finally, that night, I won the battle royale. I got my babas back! It was even better than I remembered. Mommy thought I fell asleep, but I saw her smiling at me and heard her say she loves nursing me, too.
We’re at a standstill at present with the score at Elle Belle: 1, Mommy and Daddy: 1. But I think we all know who will win the weaning war!
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