The Boob Junkie

We knew this day would eventually come, the day P and I begin to wean The Boy off the boob. When I heard Dread Pirate Robert's son Milo more or less weaned himself, I got my hopes up The Boy would do the same. One day he'd wake up and say, "Enough of the boob! It is time I became a man! Pass me that sippy cup! And while you're at it, Zincofax my ass!"

But as the days drew closer to his first birthday there was no signs of him letting up, and now two months later and he's still rooting around P's chest. Self-weaning is not going to happen.

I've never thought it possible for anyone to be addicted to breast milk, but the way The Boy is acting we might as well be weaning him off crack. Even with a drug addict though, you can at least explain what you're doing to them. As far as The Boy is concerned, P's just stopped loving him. He's going through total withdrawal - loss of appetite, irritable mood swings and crying, lots of crying. Nothing will console him - food, games, toys, books, car rides, walks - he's upset and letting us know it.

Eventually P caves and gives The Boy what he's been jonesing for all day, a good long drink from her breast. Suddenly his mood brightens, he's smiling again and ready to play. Is there a methadone equivalent for breast milk? If there is, sign us up for a case.

The story of Job is of a man who is suddenly prostrated by a succession of calamities. He remains steadfast throughout and is rewarded for his perseverance. "The Patience of Job" became a saying referring to someone who is very patient.

Did Job ever have to wean a baby? Not that I'm comparing ourselves to him necessarily, but The Boy is stretching our patience to the limit at the moment. It's been a long, long weekend.