Drew entered the kitchen on Sunday morning excited to inform the rest of us that Princess Anna (his elephant) was about to have a baby. And then the miracle followed shortly, and baby Elly was born.
On our way up to room time, I grabbed an old bottle I had sitting in my random "things to decide what to do with" pile. I handed it to Drew.
As Drew settled in to room time, he asked, "Mom, what's it called again when the baby eats from the mommy's utters?" (Ok, ok- maybe it is time to explain that they aren't exactly called utters in all scenarios...but I'm just not ready to go there yet)
"Nursing." I replied.
Looking conflicted, Drew reasoned, "Princess Anna was planning to nurse the baby..." He thought a bit more and then resolved the issue with, "I'll just pretend that the milk in this bottle is pumped."
Yeah, I know. Kind of a weird conversation to have with your five year old boy. But when you think about it, I have been nursing a baby for three out of his five years of life. So on some level it's just a fact of life.
As for Princess Anna, mom and baby are doing just fine, thanks.