Monday, April 15, 2013

I wanna play with your boobs

This is the line I hear at least ten times a day.

Some will be surprised that the words are not uttered by my husband or even a passing pervert, but an almost three year old boy. 

Tricky weaned about two or three months ago. We were down to one very short feed most days but when Bobbin popped on the scene what supply was there dropped right off and every time he fed it would hurt. It felt exactly like feeding newborn Tricks back when I had no real clue what I was doing and lovely case of golden nipples. We returned to cracked nipple central where my toes curled every time he'd ask for milk. Something had to give.

Despite being of the "never offer, never refuse" school of thought for weaning and a supporter of full-term breastfeeding, I started offering milk in a cup more and more. Under my breath I was shouting have-your-milk-in-a-damn-cup-and-leave-my-boobs-alone. It took a week and it was all over red rover. Or red nipples. Whatever.


For thirty-two(ish?) months, my breasts were used as a source of nourishment and comfort. In the later stages they became less about nutrition and, much like the flotation devices they are, more for when the day needed to be saved. Think ass-crack-of-dawn wake ups, the occasional cranky bed time or near-meltdown for a grand total of about five times a week. So basically any time when we all needed some sleep lest we go insane. Hooray for boobies.

Breasts as a source of nourishment... kind of.
These days though? They have transformed (back) in to fun bags.

If my chest is in sight, I hear it. "I wanna play with your boobs". Usually after he has plunged his hand down my top and grabbed a fist full of flesh.

He likes to cuddle them, squeeze them and of course jiggle them. He is obsessed with breasts. And I really hope you said that with the voice of Elaine Benes from Seinfeld.

I don't quite know what to do because we have tried everything we can think of. I had been pegging all my hopes on ignoring it, saying they were not for him any more because he's a big boy, telling him they were for Bobbin now etc.

It would even appear that physically stopping him and redirecting his attention elsewhere has done nothing other than introduce him to the fact that other women also have breasts. Luckily the groping has so far been constrained to family members, but I dread the day when he just lunges at a stranger and attempts to motorboat them.

Nothing has worked so far. Nothing! 

So help me, dear reader, what do I do?  Do I leave it and hope it is just his way of saying so-long to his old pals, or do I put my foot down? If you have any toddler weaning advice for me, my oft grabbed breasts would very much appreciate it.

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