A most peculiar thing happened to me this morning. I was in bed with Mummy and Daddy this morning having a lovely early morning snuggle. We were all drowsy and cuddly, the parents both had horrendous morning breath, Nellie was burrowed in under the blankets....The blankets fell away and suddenly I could see Mummy's boobie. So I did what any self respecting red blooded male would do, I went to grab it...and rudely had my hand diverted by Daddy, who claimed that the boobie now was his!
You see, apparently when I gave up breast feeding I forfeited all my rights to Mummy's chest. No one told me this, why wasn't I informed? You would think that someone would have sat me down and explained my rights to me, almost as a disclaimer. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so hasty to reject Mummy and all her milky goodness.
See, Mummy and I had been having feeding 'issues' for quite some time, I wanted more than she could give me (story of her life, I can hear her muttering from the background). I got sick of working for a decent let down and well, the sweet chemical taste of formula was just too appealing (it's like heroin man, one bottle and you're hooked!). But that said, during crisis times, like when Dad accidentally walked me into the door frame or when Mum accidentally let me roll off their bed, I really miss being held so close and that comforting soft boobiliciousness. A mere cuddle just doesn't cut the mustard!
I know that Mummy has been wracked with guilt over my rejection of her boobies - I think she wanted to be one of those mummies of a certain crunchy persuasion who fed their kids until university. And now that I've handed in my notice, Daddy's right there waiting to claim them back.So I ask you this who do they belong to? Um, last time I checked the boobies in question were actually attached to Mummy's chest and ergo, are not mine, are not Daddy's but are hers.
Free the Boobies!
Liberate the former lactators!
Sag away, my pretties!
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