This was written on July 9th but never published.
Let me preface this by saying that Little F is still sleeping in the same room as Big E and me. Alright, alright, truth be told he’s still in our bed. Actually beds, plural, since we have two mattresses pushed together so we all have room to spread out. But let me also say that Little F is still nursing at night. Which is why he’s still sleeping in our room, which is why he’s still nursing at night, which is why he’s still sleeping in our room, so on and so forth.
A few weeks ago I dreamed I was in a store and there was an annoying lady who kept coming up to me and tweaking my nipple. I politely asked her to stop but she kept doing it. Finally I’d had enough and I told her if she did it again I was going to hit her. Well, she did it again and true to my word I hit her! I woke up to find out that I had swatted Little F in my sleep. He had woken up, crawled over to me, and had started to nurse without me consciously knowing. He didn’t seem to mind the swat and actually kept nursing, even as I was apologizing to him.
But turn-about is fair play… Less than a week after my dreaming incident Little F had his own. I had just come in to bed and he woke up to nurse. We were carrying on as usual when all of a sudden he bit me. Ouch! He hadn’t bitten me while nursing since he was a baby, around four or five months old.
Me as I unlatched him: “You aren’t supposed to bite Mama. That’s not nice.”
Little F mumbling sleepily with his eyes closed: “…cake…”
Me: “You’re not supposed to bite me. Wait, what are you saying?”
Little F: “I want more cake,” and he went right back to nursing.
Evidently in his dreams my milk tastes like cake. No wonder he still wants to nurse in the middle of the night. I’d love to wake up at 5am for a bite of cake too.