Not to be outdone by his big sister, Levi tackled a mouth milestone of his own.

I needed that. Why? Isn’t his mere existence enough cuteness to sustain me through the worst? (Not that Levi is a terrible baby or particularly colicky) Mira was a raging colickoholic so a bit of excessive fussing on Levi’s part is all just that fussing. I haven’t reached the point where I seriously contemplate drowning myself in the toilet nor have I purchased a gas oven with the intent of putting my head in. I have, though, reached the point where I cry a bit and ask God why my child will only sleep if the tip of my nipple remains partially in his mouth or just touching his lip.

I lay there waiting for him to fall into a deep enough slumber that I can reclaim my nipple, and slide stealthily out of bed or quietly set him into the Boppy Lounger. It sometimes takes 5 or 6 tries for me to slip away. Inevitably some child type thing or furry type thing will make an earth shattering noise, to which I automatically respond “SHH!” The high pitched screaming doesn’t faze him, but my ever so soft but curt “SH!” busts his dream wide open and I am back to square one, held hostage by the tip of my nipple. It’s a good thing he’s so damn cute.

My nipple has become so common place, so public, that Tessa now asks to check it over with her doctor kit.

“Here mommy I check your temperature, put this under your arm. Mkay Mama, put this in your knee. Mkay Mama, put this by your eye. Mkay Mama, put this in your mipple”

“Um, Tess, my nipple is just fine”

“No Mama, we have to check, your mipple might be sick”

“It’s not sick Tess, it’s just tired. Very very tired.”