I am starting to feel better – the fog is lifting, my sinuses are clearing and my throat is near frogless. Apparently, my boobs are also starting to feel better. I didn’t actually realise that they were, too, affected by the evil virus but, now that they are on the mend, there is no question.
I have Super Power Boobs.
They now seem to be under the impression that they not only solely responsible for the Magpie – denying the existence of any solids – but are perhaps responsible for several other children as well. I’m going through 2 or 3 sleep tops by breakfast and my duvet and mattress are in very precarious positions. The Magpie, dear thing, is only nibbling and doing so at odd times. Such as when our contractor finally arrived today to discuss the cabinet we want built for our tv. He, of course, waited to arrive until I was attempting to breastfeed the Magpie so that, when I came downstairs, there was no getting around the fact that I am indeed the bearer or Super Power Boobs.
It would seem that they are not a secret Super Power.
Like the deodorant commercial during which women are not-so-subtly checking on the status of their body odour, there is little one can aim for in the way of tact when making sure the girls aren’t leaking or being too nipply.
I can only hope that he was distracted by my other Super Power: my shoulder is a Super Strength Banana Mash Magnet.