My parents have a joke about food. The story goes that they went out to eat, my dad ordered something, meanwhile (when asked what she wanted) my mom replied:
“I’m not that hungry, I’ll just pick.”
This meant that she would snack on whatever struck her fancy on my dad’s plate.
Whenever I nurse Samara I think about this anecdote. My daughter could happily snack on my boob all day.
What a life! The way she eats is so different from the way Ari used to nurse. He was glued to my boobs, and would have stayed latched on to to one breast for hours. Meanwhile, this young lady is having hors d’oeuvres, taking a breather, coming back for the main course minutes later, taking another short interlude and then demanding creme brulee.