There I was, dandling the grandchild. Fed, burped, rocking slightly. Little Monkey reached for the nearly empty bottle, intention clearly etched on his face . . .
I wouldn't drink that.
Why?
It's breast milk.
I wasn't going to drink that. I wanted you to think I was. Ha ha!
Too late I realized that I should have said that after he'd chugged; a great moment in Dad history that wil never be.
