Spilled

I’ve already mentioned that a fear we have is that we’ll drop Lyla. The bigger and sturdier she gets, the less likely it seems that she’ll slip through our fingers. But I wonder whether the fear of having butterfingers extends beyond dropping the child. My current fear is dropping the pumped breast milk.

Julie pumps four or five ounces a day, and Lyla drinks most of it during her nightly fussy times. Preparing the bottle is generally my job, and I’ve determined that it is statistically improbable that I will survive Lyla’s infancy without at least once spilling the milk. And this is spilled milk that I will cry over, friends, because Julie will beat the shit out of me.

If you know how much work is involved with pumping milk, then you know how important it is to not eff it up while transferring it to the bottle. One false move could send hours of milk backlog splashing across my good standing. The stuff is like oil: white gold. Truly, I shouldn’t be trusted with it.