Little Harry's House

June 10, 2010
THE FUN POLICE WITH BREASTS
I am the Fun Police and all because I have boobs!

Like many a small chested girl, I relished in the fact that as my belly grew so would my bust, but I gave little thought to the responsibility that would come with my new cleavage.

See it seems that boobs are the only thing that comfort my crying baby. My boobs are the tools used to quieten his cries, be it day or night, in a packed restaurant or a supermarket aisle.

Like a spanner or a hammer my boobs are just tools, and given Dan's lack of mammary glands, the onus on comforting Harry often falls on my sore, forever exposed boobs.

The responsibility however, of NEVER waking Harry, has fallen like a loud chiming church bell in Dan's ears... that I have made sure of.

A flush of the toilet is sometimes all it takes to spin a peacefully sleeping house into a baby screaming fiasco, and send a sleepy mother to the nursery with her tools out and ready to go.

So with this in mind, if in his sleepy stupor Dan accidentally flushes the toilet, I am up like a bolt of lightening, whisper cursing in the poor man's ear. Peeking out at me from behind sleep crusted eyes, and with the fogginess of dreams still floating in his mind, one might forgive his bemused scared expression....not me though.

Nope, I am the Fun Police.

The same reaction, but on a louder scale and with a more clear minded Dan, can be seen during our car trips. A familiar cord is all it takes for Dan to turn the volume nob up and brace his vocals for a tune he loves. I am quick to chastise him for nearly stirring a sleeping Harry.

Yep, I am definitely the Fun Police.

It seems ironic to think that my baby, who's incapable of self soothing – a product of my failed parenting I'm sure – seeks comfort in the exact thing that helped lead to his creation.

Given the responsibility attached to my newly found chest, I am no longer so sure about my desire to have big boobs.

They may have been small before, but at least when I got them out in a car park they weren't greeted with the same nonchalance usually reserved for a carton of milk.

I'm sure as Dan eagerly awaited my growing bust line, he never anticipated the enormous change that would follow.

They may have been small before, but at least I was fun and they didn't leak when he touched them.

Sorry Dan. Sorry.