The screaming. Oh the screaming! Bloody murder, ain’t-going-to-have-any-of-it screaming. That little monkey screamed for a full hour tonight. She didn’t want up. She didn’t want down. She didn’t want food. She didn’t want to be sung to. Adam walked in and I immediately passed her off. He changed her diaper, checked her for hairs wrapped around her fingers or toes, investigated her mouth. Still she screamed. And screamed. And screamed.
Just as I was beginning to contemplate a trip to the E.R., I realized exactly what she wanted. The br*east. It wasn’t even a normal BFing time, but the minute I popped that little monkey a look of bliss spread over her face and all screaming ceased. She drifted off a little and when I finally took her off, she completely had a second wind, and happily went toddling/crawling/squealing/destroying around the house.
Did I say I’d be weaning her on her way to college? I meant grad school.
