About a month ago, I was complaining that breastfeeding a ten-month old was like trying wrestle a ferocious baby badger. Juniper had virtually no interest in my boobs or the sweet nectar within, and getting her to nurse was a serious struggle involving gnashing teeth, razor-sharp nails, and lots of yelping and yowling.

Also about a month ago, I complained that everybody, especially Juniper, loved Dutch. I whined about how she only wanted to be carried by Dutch, and how she'd tear her little hair out in fistfuls if she had to spend so much as a minute in my arms.

Yeah, well, be careful what you fucking wish for. Whether it's our new status as the stay-at-home duo or just general eleven-month-old-ness, this baby has become a clingy tit-seeking missile. I think this is the beginning of that stage where people get creeped out by breastfeeding, where the child can demand milk with that firey look in her eyes. I wish I had never taught her the sign-language for milk, because now she stalks me from across the room, reaching out to me with both hands opening and clamping shut like a relentless crab. Yesterday she pulled down my shirt in the middle of the coffee shop, exposing my bra to everyone in the room. She wants to nurse all the time, tossing her little body from side to side until her head lands at nipple-level or burrowing into my chest like those Italian pigs that search for truffles, then trying to bite, suck, or chew her way through my shirt. It isn't that she's always hungry, it's more like my boobs are her new favorite toy. It used to be the cell-phone, now it's my chest.

She's also become clingy. Clingy is an awful word that brings up images of that annoying, never-stops-talking, kind-of-smelly girl in 5th grade who won't leave you alone on the swingset and follows you all around the playground and wants to come over to your house after school that you just can't stand. And yeah, right now Juniper is kind of like that. Last week she was content to sit with her toys, announcing "Ball!" every few seconds, and taking every toy out of each container until they were all empty. She was able to do this for at least ten minutes before demanding that I sit and play with her for a few minutes before she'd return to sorting and emptying. But now the merest hint that I'm thinking of removing her from her well-worn groove on my hip causes her to wail and start rooting around for my boobs.

If I weren't more afraid of the tantrums Dutch would throw if I told him the bigguns were on the way out and the old boobs returning to claim their rightful place on my physique, I would totally wean this kid right now.*

*note to all lactivists: no need to get your nursing bras in an uproar. I do love breastfeeding Juniper and will continue to do so. So don't call the La Leche League on my ass. Yet.