Today I missed it. Really missed it. It’s the first time in three weeks, to the day, that I’ve missed nursing Ewan. We were upstairs, getting ready for his nap, and he was playing with the zipper pull on my fleece with a big, impish grin unfolding. Ever so sweetly, he leaned forward and put his chubby face on my chest and signed for milk. Both hands.
All I could do was a offer a hug and a cuddle and a nuzzle into that soft little neck and pepper him with kisses.
I love him so.
Tags: napnursingsigning
About the author
I hate writing bios. I just want to quickly say, “Enough about me, already! What about you?” Oh alas and alright already. Here’s the deal: I dance. A lot. But only in my kitchen and usually with my kids. And boy oh boy, do I get funky with it. I love cookies. Wait, no. I love cookie dough. I think I sing better than my husband or oldest son think I do. Laughing is my favorite. When I see joy, I know I’ve already to gone to Heaven and my heart seriously leaps into my throat. I don’t cry at really sad movies, but my throat hurts for a week after because I’ve held it all in. But a sunset will make me cry in a split second. I seriously hate being tickled for fear of peeing my pants. I’m stronger than I think I am, and three more things? I always wanted to a hip-hop dancer, a blues singer, and a photographer. One out of three ain’t bad, my friends. Seriously living the dream, here.
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