Spoon ... er ... ism

This post is written especially for my friend Gabi, who I know will be amused by it.

For everybody else, you're welcome to stay, but be aware, this is one of those bodily-fluid, baby-feeding, earthy natural posts. If that sort of thing bothers you, get out now. You can come back in a day or two and read a nice post about baking cookies.

As you may recall, I had some problems with breastfeeding each of my children and had to supplement with formula for both of them. With Rosi, an undiagnosed case of postpartum depression made it extremely difficult for me to keep up nursing once we added formula. She was weaned by six months. Ian, on the other hand, is still not weaned. He started solid foods almost eight months ago and hasn't had any formula in several weeks, but he's still breastfeeding a few times a day.

Lately, he's been getting really interested in utensils and how to eat with them. For the last month or so, he'll grab a spoon and just tote it around as he goes about his business. We've started calling it his "security spoon."

The other morning Ian was holding on to his security spoon and he asked to nurse. I pulled him up into my lap. Rather than immediately latching on, he looked speculatively at me for a moment, then raised his spoon.

Catching on, I gently pushed his hand away, telling him, "No, you cannot breastfeed with a spoon."