That'll Learn Me
Some years back, I was sitting peaceably in church, in a nice mid-central pew, with my peaceful baby in my arms. Suddenly Emma decided she was starving, and must be fed. That instant. So I left my pew and retreated to a corner at the back of the sanctuary, hoping to feed the child in privacy without having to descend to the nursery. (Being claustrophobic, crowded basement rooms are not my favourite places.) A small girl, about 4, child of a friend, slipped off the pew and followed me.
I proceed to feed.
"What are you doing?" asks small girl.
"Feeding my baby. There's milk in my breasts for the baby to drink." I knew her mother would be fine with her child getting this information: small girl was the youngest of four, all of whom had been breastfed for over a year. Her older siblings wouldn't have needed to ask the question!
She accepted this information with only a sage nod for comment, and watched baby Emma gulp and sigh. After a while, I burped Emma, explained this process to my small audience, then switched her to the other side.
"Why are you putting her on the other one?"
"Well, she's had her lunch, you see, and now she's having dessert. THIS side has the chocolate milk." (Hear my adult smirking. I am so clever, me and my inside jokes. Bwah-ha.)
Again with the sage nod from girlchild.
After church, her mother approaches. Suddenly all the child's calm sagacity vanishes and full small-child enthusiasm bubbles up as she races up the aisle towards mummy.
"HEY, MUMMY!" she calls out across the sanctuary in her high, piping, oh-so-carrying four-year-old voice. "GUESS WHAT? MRS P. HAS A CHOCOLATE BOOBY!!!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~ © 2006, Mary P