Today featured a heavy dose of pouts and shouts. This morning we dropped Summer off at lab and returned home as Madeline displayed hunger signs. But she wouldn't take the bottle. She made heart-meltingly sad faces, pleaded for proper food, and took frowning catnaps in hopes of waking up with something other than a bottle for food. But she wouldn't take the bottle. And I tried different rooms, holds, and background noises to coax her into eating. But she wouldn't take the bottle.
After a few hours, I escorted an intermittently screaming Madeline back to Brown, where we picked up Summer. Madeline got her meal and was quite happy to have her mother back, too.
But the morning's fussiness remained for most of the afternoon. And Madeline still seemed a little suspicious of me, looking at me like I might produce the dreaded bottle at any given moment.
By evening everything had settled back into its happy routine. Tomorrow's my turn to go to work for a while. And hopefully by Summer's next turn, Madeline will be over her bottle-trauma and ready to return to those halcyon days when a meal was a meal, whether from mother or (now slightly shell-shocked) father.
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