The other night T woke up and was very restless, a side-effect of teething. As I brought him into bed for a quick snuggle, B quipped "Don't you wish he was still nursing?"
I had to think for a minute.
No, I don't, but I loved every minute of it. I can't even remember the very last time he nursed, like I can with M and Z. Nursing T was such a sweet season, and then he grew into a big boy. He discovered the flavors of oranges and raspberries and strawberries. He learned how to walk, how to say "more." He stopped asking to nurse, and I stopped remembering to offer.
And suddenly we were just snuggling on the couch, not snuggling and nursing, like before.
And with so much love from his siblings, mama, and daddy, I don't think he misses it, either.