More middle-class maternal neurosis

The good news: it has been three days now since we ditched the morning feed, and the Golden-Haired Snow Elf appears to have forgotten it ever existed. The minute she is out of bed first thing she goes straight onto all fours, looking for wires to chew. The trauma was short-lived, praise the Lord.

The bad news: she hates milk. Any old milk. Cow's, formula. Haven't tried sheep or goat milk, but in short, if there are no bosoms involved, milk is pfffff! urgggghh! I have stopped waving a pretty beaker full of the stuff in her disgusted (but still adorable) face.

If - when - I drop the bedtime feed, that means no more milk at all. And babies are meant to drink milk, right? Should I hang onto that feed in which case? Or just cram her full of cheese and yoghurt? Our latest strategy is making the bedtime feed less breastcentric: more stories, more cuddles, less udders.
Ho-hum.
Next post: world poverty and really important stuff.