I have been tandem nursing lately. So far, I have breastfed, at H’s request, my Kindle, his toothbrush, a white crayon, a parking garage ticket, Tumble Bumble, my keys, an orange castanet, a Stief lovey, the skeleton of his lacing sheep, a stuffed zebra, the male catkins from a pine tree, and a dime.
“All done. H,” H says, when he has deemed his nursing mate has had enough.
Before moving over to that side, he repeats what I have told him so many times. “Nice you,” he says.
“Yes. It’s so nice of you to share your milk, sweet baby. I agree.”