The boobie connection

It was 8:23 p.m. on Wednesday and I was driving home from church when I felt it. That familiar tingling ache of let down. Milk let down. In my boobs.

I’d been thinking about Duncan, the little guy I was driving home to, just moments before. He popped into my mind, clear as day, like he was right there with me in the car. I looked at the clock on the dashboard. 8:23 p.m.

I got home and he was awake, swaddled in his bouncy seat. He smelled clean and fresh from a bath and he looked at me and giggled, his eyes scrunching up in delight. He was also hungry.

He was asleep, my sister-in-law explained. He started getting sleepy right at 8 o’clock and she swaddled him up and rocked him to sleep. (Looks like this sleep routine/schedule thing is a good idea. Some people ask me why I want him to take naps at 11 and 4 and go to bed at 8. This is why.)

Then the phone rang. And he woke up and cried because he was hungry.

He thought of food at 8:23, I said. Turns out, that’s exactly when the phone rang. Karen looked up at the VCR, she said – 8:23 p.m.

I understood when it happened while I was upstairs in the house and he was downstairs with Kevin. Even when I didn’t hear him with the doors closed. But even when I’m down the street in my car, a couple of minutes from home?

That’s quite the connection.

In other news, our second cereal feeding went well with lots of lip smacking and happy faces. I tried to get a photo of the dribbly mess but, as these photos show, Duncan kept cleaning his face with his bib all on his own.

He knawed and sucked on his bib for a few minutes, and then fell asleep. It was very cute.