Tonight Amy was a walking zombie, but unwilling to go to her bed. I held her in my arms and rocked her. As I rocked, I realized that she had one hand on either side of my left breast and was massaging it.
Mom: “Amy, why are you playing with Mommy’s breast?”
Amy: “I like it.”
Mom: “Do you think you could stop?”
Mom: “Umm, okay.”
I’m not rocking her tomorrow.