Weening off.

She toys with a nipple between her fingers. Her eyes survey my face looking for approval. I repeat again, “no, no, no.” She cries. Large tears cascade down her cheeks. She rubs her eyes. Taps out code on the nipple, eying it, then my face with longing. She hovers close, resting her chin over her hand, turning slowly closer to latch. Her throat catches as she tries to calm herself. “Mommy, want night night? Thank you, Mom. Thank you, night night. ”

She hugs me, resting her head against me. Her hand remains on my breast, cupping it protectively.

“Want teeyee. Want Hot Dog?” she requests, temporarily distracted. But as I locate her channel, she fixes attention again on her night nights. Mouth gaping, she tries again to latch. I recover my chest, securing my shirt. Tears fall quickly. “Peez, Mommy?”

I refuse to give in.

“Mommy, baby? Night nights?”

“No, big girl. Good morning.”

“Okaaaay,” she sings. And she slides off the bed to her own room leaving me to watch DocDoc alone.

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