Breadfeeding
Taylor looked up earnestly. She stared at the baby in my arms, desperate for a chance to hold her. Although 10 year old Taylor had just met little Sayler, she was in love. She grabbed Sayler's chubby arm as it draped over my own and kissed it, followed by a stroke to her cheek. In a most adult-like tone she asked me, "Are you breadfeeding?" I smiled. "Yes", I replied. I knew what she meant. She went on, in a most-certain way about how she was 'breadfed' but her little sister, Hannah, was not, because the 'breadmilk' made her sick, but that breadmilk is best for the baby. It made me smile again. At only 10 years, Taylor spoke like an adult. At one point in the evening she even brought me a cocktail and said "don't worry, it's not dirty..." to indicate it was alcohol-free. (We wouldn't want to taint the breadmilk, after all) I wondered when and how she became so precocious. Much later in the eveni...