The other night as we were sitting down to dinner, Nora starting clawing at me and rooting, making it perfectly clear that I wasn't going to eat before her. This maybe 30 minutes after her last feeding. I resigned myself to a(nother) cold dinner, pulled up my shirt and said, "You're a junkie, girl!"
Sidamo shook his head: "No, him's not a junkie. Him's a baby. Him just want milk."
What would I do without him?