We've had a bit of a hot spell, and we thought that we'd beat the heat by going to the Mall. Of course, so did everyone else, and it was a mob scene. Of course, maybe it's always a mob scene on the weekends, we don't know, we try and avoid the mall at all costs on any day. What led both Rachel and I to think that going was a good idea is now lost on us, and we've sworn not to do that again. However, we loaded the children up and headed out.
I won't detail the crowds or the blatant consumerism. The punch line to this story is that after a few hours at the Mall, we got packed up back into the car and were heading home when Arthur got hungry and fussy. Rather than try and stop on the roadside, we figured it would be better to press for home, so that Rachel could feed him there. While Rachel and I were determined to ride out the crying on the way home, his crying was really starting to upset Helen. So Rachel reached back from the front seat to put her finger in his mouth for him to suck on, in the hope that it would appease him for a few more miles. When this calmed him down, Helen said, "Are you feeding him with your milk finger?"
Milk came from other parts of Mom, why not her finger? A perfectly reasonable assumption. It gave Rachel and I a good laugh.
