She's teeny AND weanie

Getting milk from a different set of cans

After nearly ten months of teasing, Amelia the boobaholic has finally, convincingly and repeatedly drunk formula from a bottle. Only four months after we initially intended!

What's more, the wee sproglet is not merely tolerating the stuff; she's literally gagging for it. It's like the Pretend Milk Fairy came into our house a couple of weeks ago, waved her magic wand and turned strange-smelling white powder into chocolate-flavoured chocolate. I only need to peel the lid back from the can and Amy's clawing her way up my leg, giggling excitedly and flapping her hands around like a 9-kilo hummingbird.

I'm bloody thrilled.

Now... tonight is the second night in a row that Amy has gone to bed without boob (as a result I can barely see the keyboard for swollen norks), and I reckon she'll be completely weaned by the end of February. I will, of course, miss those special couch-cuddles, and I'm not looking forward to watching my cushy boosies turn slowly southwards; but the rewards will be great. My posture will improve, my hormones will settle and maybe, just maybe, I can go out at night-time. Unbelievable.

I want to breeeaaak freeeee...