So I was up on a ladder painting the bedroom when my husband and little girls came home from a dad-and-me breakfast put on by the local early childhood agency. The girls were happy to see me. I was happy to see them all. But Bob was the one grinning.
The girls went off to play and he began to unload the contents of his pockets. A toy baby bottle, stolen from the playgroup. By him. Thief.
Lined up in a neat row on the bed.
Six toy baby bottles, removed from circulation, in hopes that one more little child will know breastfeeding to be the norm.
They went in the trash.
And he doesn't even lactate.