Aw, he gave it a name.
My darling 14 month old officially refers to breastfeeding as ‘nun-nuns’. I assume his recent dubbing sprung from my asking him to go ‘night-night’ at bedtime. Now that he’s figured out what the heck his beloveds are called, he’s been practicing his communication skills by asking for them in perpetuum. He takes extra pleasure in tilting his little head sideways and sweetly asking ‘nun-nun?’ when I’ve just positioned myself on the toilet with wasted hopes of actually getting any business accomplished. Or when I’ve got a peeler in one hand, a potato in the other, and one hour to get these puppies mashed, he presses both dimply hands against my knee and with big brown eyes he murmurs ‘nun-nun’.
With one hand to the side of my head and a quiet whisper of night-night, he responds in his special bobble-headed way and leans in to have at them. He knows exactly where they are too, in very much the same way his father knows where they are. He knows where they are when we’re grocery shopping. He knows where they are in line at the post office. He knows where they are while I chat with a Very Important Business Man in line at subway restaurant. He’s surprisingly adept at the grab-for-the-strap-and-yank technique. Otherwise known as oops-sorry-stranger-you-just-almost-saw-my-boob.
Although there are days where I swear I hear cowbells when I walk, I enjoy nursing this little baby. This last little baby I’ll ever have. I’ve come to understand that weaning will happen when it’s right for both of us; not just me. And as all babies do eventually, he will let me know when it’s time. Until then I’ve got my Papoose and he’s got his nun-nuns.
With one hand to the side of my head and a quiet whisper of night-night, he responds in his special bobble-headed way and leans in to have at them. He knows exactly where they are too, in very much the same way his father knows where they are. He knows where they are when we’re grocery shopping. He knows where they are in line at the post office. He knows where they are while I chat with a Very Important Business Man in line at subway restaurant. He’s surprisingly adept at the grab-for-the-strap-and-yank technique. Otherwise known as oops-sorry-stranger-you-just-almost-saw-my-boob.
Although there are days where I swear I hear cowbells when I walk, I enjoy nursing this little baby. This last little baby I’ll ever have. I’ve come to understand that weaning will happen when it’s right for both of us; not just me. And as all babies do eventually, he will let me know when it’s time. Until then I’ve got my Papoose and he’s got his nun-nuns.
posted by Renée at 10:22 PM
2 Comments:
I'm so glad that the Monster weaned himself before going through that gimme-now phase. Good thing you're at least (mostly) still enjoying it. Minus the stranger-flashing, of course. :)
Happened across your blog. Love this num-num post. I'm still waiting for my 2 year old son to wean himself. Until then, he says,"urse" and used to call it numma-numma, thanks to his Daddy. Thankfully, he's down to bed time and naptime if we're home. Other than that, he does like to nurse before getting up for the day... it's not about us anymore, is it?!
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