Does This Count As a Bottle?

Tonight we discovered that all of Zora's Born Free trainer cups had migrated over to Jodi and Tony's house, so when the time came for the bedtime "milkies" all we had were very unsatisfying, hard plastic sippy cups.

Trying to get Zora to drink milk from a sippy cup was like trying to convince me that decaf is the way to go at 6 a.m.

"It's still milk, Zora," I offered, hopefully.

Zora thrust out her palm in a very convincing talk-to-the-hand gesture: "No."

We compromised by letting her sip milk through a straw, but the thought of being a big girl didn't offer much comfort. She cried to sleep on Rodney's shoulder.

What to do? Would I be a softy for letting her have her nighttime bottle? My gut tells me no. My desire to have a few hours to myself before going to bed also attracts me more than listening to my little one cry for her "bod-del."

But other kids give up their bottles and pacis, I argue with myself. But I know my munchkin, and I know that that sucking on her nighttime bottle and paci comforts her. I have to laugh because the post-partum doula who we hired right after Zora was born wagged her judgemental British finger at me for even thinking of using a pacifier. So I went behind her back and gave Zora a paci. I know -- what a rebel. The catch: every time she came over, I'd have to quickly comb through the condo and hide all those pacis.

The moral of the story: I know my daughter (read: bring some bottles home tomorrow!).

Besides, I think parenting will probably get a little more complicated, say, when she hits 12 or 13.