Love Bites

End of last week, I was cradling F in my arms as mummy got ready for bed. Mummy was a little too slow; F got tired of waiting and decided to tuck in to the nearest approximation of a boob, namely me. At first I was thinking 'aw, how sweet, she's kissing daddy's arm, look!'

Then it started hurting.

I was thinking of posting a Facebook status to the tune of 'just got a hickey from my daughter' but I thought that might arouse undue comment. As it is, it's a sad indictment of my muscle tone that my upper arm could be mistaken for breast tissue.

That blemished red disc on my biceps took her about ten seconds to raise. My admiration for my wife has redoubled. She's enduring that suction far more regularly on a much more sensitive area. You'd have thought nature would have come up with a less painful solution, like osmosis or something. But who knows, maybe absorbing liquids directly through your outer membrane hurts even more. Next time you look at an amoeba, give a moment to consider its feelings.

It's our wedding anniversary today - three glorious years. That's a leather anniversary, according to the gurus who determine such things. I did try to find a set of protective leather suction-resistant breast pads, but apparently nobody has invented them yet. Look out Dragon's Den, here I come - hopefully they'll censor the modelling sequence for national television.