Never have I encountered so much meddling as when people discover I'm still nursing a child who's got eight teeth, a head full of hair and the ability to string sentences.
By their appalled reactions, one might assume I was putting a teenager to breast, not a 20-month-old toddler.
A couple of months ago, I was in a department store restroom, discreetly nursing so that shopping could continue in relative peace. A woman walked in and stared with disdain.
"How old is that child?" she snapped as she placed her parcels on the counter.
"She's in middle school," I lied, kissing the top of my tot's head. The woman made some muffled comment just as the water came rushing from the faucet.
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