March 31, 2010
The Last Supper
My youngest son spent the first year of his life despising his bottle.
For this reason, it seems unjust and cruel that now that Cameron has finally made a friend, he has to give him up.
"It's time to say good-bye!" chirped his doctors at the end of our last office visit. "It's sippy cup time!"
As grateful as I was, I knew the news would not go over well with the party in question. Because of this, I delayed telling him for over a week.
"It's a cruel world," I told my son as I tossed a handful of bottles into the kitchen trash can under the approving eye of a visiting therapist.
Cameron howled in agony. The therapist congratulated us on our collective strength and courage.
I nodded proudly and smiled. Everyone likes to receive compliments. Especially ones that are true.
After the therapist left my house, I dug one of the bottles out of the trash and prepared it for my son. Then I poured myself a glass of milk.
Everyone deserves a last supper.