We often refer to Wanda as "The Fatness." See? I threw you there for a second, "Phatness" in the title, "Fatness" in the first sentence. I can use the two nicknames interchangeably because they are homonyms and because Wanda is ALL That. She is both PH and F. My cow! Just look at her.

 

 

Wanda knew how to roll over at 1.75 months of age. For a full week she could roll over on demand. Then she forgot. Well, she didn't forget so much as she gained about 80 lbs of baby milk fat and her butt became like an anchor, making it impossible for her to move. Every once in a while, if placed just so, with an empty stomach and a south-westerly breeze, she can grunt and groan her way to a quick flop-over where she then proceeds to do her happy dance.

Her happy dance consists of lying flat on her back with her dip-cone mohawk vibrating, her eyes bugging out of her head, her lips pursed, and her arms flapping at her side asynchronously like two uncoordinated metronomes beating different times atop your grandma's piano. Oh, and her legs kick spasmodically when she does this. If you can watch the happy dance without cracking a smile, it is proof that you are a witch and should be summarily disposed of flamboyantly.

We have a good working relationship, Wanda and I. She milks me several times a day and I clean up after her when the unused remnants of that milk are deposited in the milk-remnant collection device that she wears around her loins. I also hit her repeatedly after each milking until she belches for my amusement. I'm always sure to give her plenty of positive feedback for the work that she does because when she doesn't do the work, nobody is happy for long.

Lately she's taken to milking me so much that when she's done and I lift her up like a little sandbag with appendages, I can hear the milk sloshing around inside her as I swing her from side to side. I think she's storing up extra for a month from now when we start to introduce solids and I don't need her dairyman services quite so frequently.

The main problems we're currently having in the milk department are related to her inability to eat under certain difficult circumstances. She is unable to nurse if she is too happy which occurs when she first wakes up in the morning or after any quality nap or when Laylee or Magoo are within 50 feet of her. She just sucks once or twice, grins up at me, laughs until I make eye contact and then latches back on ferociously for a second or two before repeating the ritual that tells me SHE. IS. SO. VERY. HAPPY!

She is also unable to nurse if she is too sad, too tired or if there is any distraction in the room like the television, music being played, or the sound of fun.

So basically she can eat halfway between the time that she has woken up and the time that she will be put back down to sleep if the children are not around, the house is silent and no fun is being had anywhere around her.

I love that little milk sucker. Nursing is going to be painful to give up this time around.

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