She hasn’t had any gak for about three or so weeks now, and only asks every couple of days when she’s really bored or I’m paying her no attention at all.  This morning DH bathed with Flopsy while I did some work and Mopsy slept in bed.  When I heard Mopsy wake up, I went upstairs and she looked so lovely and cosy and warm and snuggly that I decided we hadn’t had enough skin-to-skin time lately, just me and her, so I took my nightie off (yes, I am lazy enough to write essays still in my night-clothes!), and took her pyjamas off and snuggled up for a lovely long wake up feed.  Then Flopsy descended on us, wrapped up in a towel.  She ran in calling ‘here comes my naked body!’ - don’t know where she’s got that from, but she’s said it a few times now and it still sends DH and me into fits of laughter!  She saw that I was feeding Mopsy (who looked up and grinned at Flopsy, as she usually does), and said ‘can I have some gak?’.  I suggested that she’d probably forgotten how to do it, which she disagreed with.  Although I’ve been very aware that saying ‘yes’ would be messing her around and be very unfair on her, I also thought it was a bit harsh sitting there with no top on and not letting her have any (rather like eating Green & Blacks in front of a dieter!).  So I said to her that she could try, but just for a second.  She kind of latched on, and came straight off looking a bit folorn saying ‘there is some no gak anymore!’.  I could have cried!  I knew that there was plenty of milk there, as Mopsy was getting plenty - Flopsy really has forgotten how to breastfeed!  In just a few short weeks.  She tried another couple of times with the same result.  It didn’t really bother her though…particularly when we got on with playing a hiding-under-the-covers-from-scary-Daddy-and-shrieking-like-mad-when-he-catches-us game.

I can’t really believe it though.  I mean, she’s my baby, but she’s not anymore, really.  She’s left every last bit of babyhood behind now.  She’s shed her babyness bit by bit, sometimes with encouragement from me, and sometimes totally off her own back.  And now she’s dropped the most meaningful part of babyhood - breastfeeding.  It seems like only yesterday I was ringing my parents in the middle of ‘Holby City’ to tell them I’d felt her kick inside me; like only yesterday I was leaning over the basin in our old bathroom asking my Grandma over the telephone to please hold on a moment while I had another contraction; like only yesterday my darling baby was lying in my arms in the birthing pool gazing up at me and DH with her hands clasped together; like only yesterday I was ringing DH at work to tell him she’d rolled over for the first time; that she’d just crawled across the room; that she’d just pulled herself to standing; that she was playing peekaboo with the top of her dungarees while I changed her nappy; that she’d said ‘mama’; that she’d joined in the actions to ‘wind the bobbin up’; only yesterday that she was leaning on the bottom of the bannisters copying me having contractions while I was in labour with Mopsy; only yesterday morning I watched her hold Mopsy’s hand for the first time while they both shared their first breastfeed together; only yesterday we bought her her first tiny little knickers and we put her great big toddler nappies away.  Where did it all go?  She’s three years old in only two months time.  My darling little girl, who’s so grown up and silly and sensible and short-tempered and kind and contrary and generous and determined and loving and gentle and simply amazing, is no longer a baby, but a wonderful independent individual.  I’ve got to go now…must just dash upstairs and kiss her cheek while she sleeps (oh, and I might kiss Mopsy’s cheek while I’m at it!).