Nursing at Night

Nursing is awesome.  For me (someone who'd never even changed a diaper), it was what instantly connected me to my daughter when she was a baby.  (Aside from the look she gave me shortly after she was born like she already knew everything there was to know about me--and everything else, for that matter...)  When she turned one, I knew that I'd nurse her until she was at least two.  She last nursed when she was three (though she'd essentially weaned a few months before that).

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.