Boobies, tits, lung hammers, breasts. Gotta love them. Clothed or bare, large or small, it’s all good.
As A Dad, and as a man, there are great things about breast-feeding, and some not so great things. You get to see them more often and they do indeed get larger – hell, they change shape and size fairly often. It’s like having a variety pack! Breastfeeding moms wear clothes that give easier access to the twin girls. Nipples (those pretty spigots…) are larger and more prominent. They taste better, too.
The not so good… You have to share. No, I take that back. You get only the leftovers. The child MUST come first. Any time you may be granted access, you may be interupted and have said access revoked. The caretaker of the grand globes may not be so happy with their appearance. (And they never listen when you try to disabuse them of the notion…)
They can be overly sensitive, to the point where you aren’t allowed to touch them, no matter how gentle you promise to be. There can be, and will be, times where the bearer of the boobs will feel like they are all there is to her. At times like this, the smart dad won’t even glance at them out of fear of WWIII beginning. Sometimes (when you least expect it) they leak, and if you aren’t open to the idea, it can kill the mood. (not a prob here….)
Which brings me to another longer subject. Sex, alterna-parenting, children, co-sleeping and all the rest. That post will be coming soon.
(this post inspired by Psycho-Momia‘s post on Boobies.
Currently playing in iTunes: Sorrow? by David Bowie
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