Yesterday was one of those hard days that every parent has walked through. By 4 o’clock, the kids and I had only one option for making through the rest of the afternoon. Nappy hour. Someone needed a nap, and since Nate, Sam, and Ellie weren’t volunteering, I took one for the team.
Sure enough, as soon as I fell into the quasi-sleep of a mother on a playroom floor with three demanding children stepping on her, the mood of arguing that had ruled our afternoon lifted. Sam and Ellie began their favorite game of house–but with a twist. Ellie was still the mommy, but instead of playing the role of “I’m going to work now, I’m watching football now” Daddy, Sam volunteered to be the Baby.
Fine by Ellie. Her collection of baby dolls rivals a Target-aisle full of them, so she was thrilled for a real-live baby.
Especially after six weeks of studying her mommy with a real-live baby.
The first thing Ellie-Mommy and Sam-Baby decided to do?
Breastfeed!
Nothing ends Nappy Happy like hearing your daughter say to your son…
(by the way, stop reading now if you’re easily offended. Or work for Child Protective Services.)
“I’ll pull up my shirt, and you open really wide.”
Which Sam did. Until I shot up and suggested Ellie push Sam around in the broken stroller. Anything to distract them from the more-scarring activity they were attacking with gusto.
They tried that for awhile, but Ellie was anxious to try this breastfeeding business that has been preoccupying Mommy.
I had no choice but to distract them with the ultimate super-fun activity of playing with all of Catie’s birthday presents.
Which they did. Until it was time for Nate to nurse.
And then I looked over to see Ellie with Barbie’s shirt off. And another “baby Barbie” latching on.
Oh well.
That, my friends, is the pit stop at the intersection of Awkward and Inappropriate in the Hergenrader House.
LOL! Sara used to nurse her baby doll all the time!