Now, for my son. The boob-man. Whose face, as a newborn, contained an expression of awe and amazement (wondrous appreciation?) when I saw him notice that there were two breasts, not just one. I knew that I would plan to nurse him also until two--at least. (A Jewish law thing, actually, which, when my daughter was one, I researched to tell my in-laws when the inevitable questions about nursing toddlers arose.)
So, my son is still going strong at 2.9. I'm probably not having any other kids. He's my baby, literally. I do wish that I could figure out what it is that makes him sleep so unsoundly, even at this age. Possibilities: (1) he is teething his last molar; (2) he has a food sensitivity (possible, since he is not a big eater though nursing has made him big); (3) he, too, is moving into another winter illness post-flu; or (4) he's just really determined. It may be a combination of all of them.
I'm interested in seeing how this plays out over time.