"Do you still give him a bottle?"
I started sweating, "Mmmmaybe" but I was really thinking "are you reading my blog?"
"Does he take one to bed?"
I looked at Andy..."he might."
"That's it. He's laying down at night with a bottle...it makes it worse."
I looked over at Andy who mouthed the word "darn" only it wasn't "darn". Our sacred crutch.
Fine, we shall start weening...whatever. I'm not bitter.