It started off innocently enough. "Jesse tends to waste milk quite a bit," I told them. "He sleeps in the middle of a feed," I told them.
The audience was my Cell Group (church, not terrorism) members. Unfortunately for me, I was the lone thorn amongst this bunch of roses. And women, as we know, are an authority on the subject of motherhood.
"You shouldn't let it go to waste, James," Jo advised. She would know, being a mother of a spritely 2-year-old. "You could try waking him," said Bee, whose had 9 years experience as a mommy. "Mother's milk too precious to waste," Shamini added.
And that's when things got out of hand. Never mind that I was referring to formula milk. I had created a monster.
"You can drink it, you know." There. Someone said it. I think it was Elsie.
"Waitaminit," I protested. "Me?" Oh boy.
"It's good for you too," someone said. Oh boy! "You should," someone else added. I was cornered like a frightened animal. Across the room, I saw Mae out of the corner of my eye. Beavis was taking the heat and Butthead was grinning from ear to ear. Hahhahha!
The boy had better finish his milk. He better.