One of the developmental milestones I have been the most excited to reach is parental preference, when the baby starts to love E and I better than everyone else. I mean, it’s hard to spend the morning wiping poop off your child, yourself, the crib and the walls and still get the same smile as the lady in the grocery store who calls him “such a happy little girl”. I am your sole source of food child, and don’t you forget it. I want some love!
Unfortunately, that mindset seems to have backfired. Baby Evan definitely remembers where his food comes from. He remembers at night, when he refuses to unlatch even in his sleep. He remembers when I’m carrying him around and he starts patting my shirt to make sure he’s favorite things in the world are still there. He remembers when we’re playing on the floor and he launches himself right at my cleavage, head first. It seems that his parental preference isn’t for ME as much as it is for my boobs.
One of the things I love about breastfeeding is that it’s an automatic boo-boo fixer, sleeping pill, tantrum distraction and leisure activity in one convenient package. Now that head bumps and face plants are a part of daily life the ability to sooth Baby Evan’s tears on demand is more important than ever. But apparently while I was holding him in my arms and kissing his head and singing him little songs, all he noticed was the comfy pillows. So much for making his lovey a blanket or one of the dozens of cute and cuddly stuffed animals collecting dust in his room – he’s already picked out his two favorite things. I just hope he knows he won’t be taking them to college.