Hooray!

So, around the Robotkinson household, we've had some struggles with the lil Peanut drinking from a bottle. She has always been great at latching on to the Mrs, and feeding like a piglet, but when we have attempted to give her a bottle, even with milk homemade by her mother, she has wholeheartedly rejected it.

The first few times we tried it, she would wail and scream, as if I scooped up a pile of dirt and put it in her mouth. But as of late, she's been a little more amicable, even if she wasn't drinking from it. She'd just play with the nipple of the bottle, moving it around with her tongue like it was a lollipop or something. She'd do this for 20 minutes or so, and hardly drink a drop.

But something happened two nights ago—she took the bottle, and gulped it down like a fisherman visiting his favorite ol' tavern after months at sea. And she didn't just drink that bottle of milk, she destroyed it. She took one little break to just stare at me and make her cute little noises, before resuming the onslaught.

One of the best moments of my short time as a father


It was amazing. Of course, when I started feeding her that night, I didn't exactly have high expectations that she would drink from it, so I was sitting on the floor in a very uncomfortable position. But once she started drinking from it, I didn't want to move, even though my back was killing me. It was like in baseball, when a pitcher is throwing a no-hitter, his teammates don't want to talk to him because they don't want to jinx it. The lil wifey was in the kitchen doing dishes, and didn't realize that Peanut was devouring the bottle of milk and at one point yelled into the family room to ask me a question. I had to shush her because I didn't want the wee one to hear her voice and remember that the same human that possesses that voice is also the one with the two feedbags strapped to the front of her. So I quickly shushed her, and later apologized for my curtness, explaining to her how I didn't want to jinx the no-hitter.

Now, I understand that this is a silly thing to be elated about. We are just so lucky to have a happy, healthy baby. And the fact that she feeds with mom is a great thing—it wasn't the end of the world that she didn't take a bottle too. However, it would make things much easier if she would just relent and accept the bottle. Then I could watch her on my own, either at home or by taking her with me out and around. Or, for Pete's sake, maybe we could leave her with someone so we could have an evening away from her (where I am sure we'll talk about how much we miss the little nugget).

So last night I decided to try it again, but this time, instead of just 1.5 oz, we tried about 4 oz of milk, which is apparently the proper amount. And lo and behold, she again drank it. At first she played a little bit, not really drinking, but then she hit her stride and plowed through it. This time though, I decided to make myself comfortable before I began the feeding, that way I wouldn't have to worry about a sore back in the middle. I also over thought the entire process by putting on some basketball, which she seems to enjoy watching, to put her at ease. But she wasn't really going right at it. As an experiment, I decided to turn off the TV and give her some peace and quiet, and that seemed to work. I suppose it could just be a coincidence, but we'll we'll find out tonight.

Now that she's done it two days in a row, we'll keep it up every day, since I've heard that is what you have to do. Our hope, of course, is that eventually she'll take it without a problem, any time, anywhere. Our fingers are crossed, but I hope by writing this I don't jinx the progress that we've attained. I just felt like I wanted to share it with the world, since we are so happy for our little Sweet Pea.

Until next time.