Rosy cheeked BBRight, here we have it. Five (very good) reasons why it’s time for me to wean BB off the boob and wave goodbye to breast feeding:

1) There’s no question about it: more sleep! No more booby means that Misery Guts can drag himself out of bed, stumble across the hall and help deal with the little monkey when she wakes up at 2am, 3am, 4am, 5am…
2) No more toe stubbing. This has been a surprisingly regular occurrence in the shadowy small hours. Once what I thought was a stub was in fact quite a nasty collision between my little toe and the bed post, resulting in blood all over the sheets which I only discovered several hours later in the cold light of day…
3) The prospect of a bra that actually fits! Right now the poor things change size by the hour, depending on how much milking has been going on.
4) And talking of the poor things, time to give the boobies a much needed break.
5) I have raised a bright eyed, rosy cheeked whirling dervish with a constitution of steel (pictured – that’s glue in her hair, by the way). I really think breast milk is now surplus to requirements.

Of course coming up with 5 reasons to give up breast feeding has also helped me to come up with 5 reasons not to:

1) No more tuckage. Tuckage is when one warm little fist is tucked under an arm and the other under your top when feeding. Priceless.
2) One hungry baby + milk production = extra calories needed. Chocolate bars all round, please. Make mine a Twix. And tomorrow I think I’ll have a Twirl.
3) I’m sure breast feeding encourages multi-tasking. BB has become quite adept at waving goodbye to Misery Guts when he leaves for the orifice (his words, not mine) and even eating a biscuit while latched on.
4) Engorged boobies. When BB had a cold last Christmas her throat was so sore it hurt her to suck for 3 whole days, so she didn’t. After 24 hours I was begging for mercy, and dispatched Misery Guts to Tesco on Christmas Eve afternoon for a breast pump. Forging a path through desperate last minute shoppers grappling over the last of the frozen turkeys, he emerged victorious. You guessed it: even more miserable. I’m not sure what was worse – my poor, throbbing milk filled boobies or his mood afterwards.
5) It means my baby won’t be a baby anymore! Am I ready to embark on the next phase of our lives?

Well, there’s only one way to find out. Let weaning commence.