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.