Last night Husband and I went to a breastfeeding class, which started out with a 20 minute video of boob after boob. Up close and uncovered. Sure, there were some babies in there too, but who could see them? All we could focus on were the boobs. I mean breasts. That’s the proper term.
After a couple minutes of watching, I started laughing to myself. Because I’m 13. I glanced over at Husband knowing I was probably going to get the evilest eye of all the evil eyes, but surprisingly, he was barely holding it together himself. There we were, 11 weeks from having our own little baby, in a room with several other couples in the same boat, watching these women breastfeed their babies while a narrator talked about how lovely this bonding experience would be and how important technique is, etc, and we are trying not to bust a gut and shame ourselves into oblivion.
Oh our poor kid. How will he ever learn how to act like a mature adult when his parents are us? On the other hand, a boob is funny, I don’t care who you are. Maybe there’s still hope.
He’ll be fortunate because his parents have a sense of humor!