A Confession Of A Milkaholic

I have a confession; I’m addicted to milk. Yes that smooth white stuff which Mummy informs me comes from a cow. I just can’t get enough of it. On a bad day, I must get through at least five bottles and a good day around three, but I’m still clutching to that fridge in the desperate hope that Mummy will pour me one.Why does she expect me to lower my intake now? She spent months increasing it when I was born, and now she’s trying to decrease it? Crazy Lady! Ok, she might still be slightly miffed that I never wanted her milk when I was born but she gave me some formula which gave me all the goodness I needed until it came to weaning me onto the cow’s milk. Mummy did that just before I turned one; she said the formula was costing her a fortune especially with how much I was drinking each day. She’s discovered that I refuse to go to sleep without a bottle in my hand.

I know my addiction has got out of hand because I wake up in tears and screaming for another bottle in the middle of the night.

Mummy, of course, brings me that bottle as she knows it’s what I want and as soon as I receive it, I snuggle back up under my duvet and fall asleep with it. I just need that midnight fix to get me through the night. Of course, I wake up, and the first thing I want is that bottle of milk, maybe it’s just the baby inside of me still?

Mummy has no worries about me drinking this much milk; the doctor said it’s perfectly ok. I know she’s worried about the effect the teat will have on my teeth but what does she expect? She took my dummy off me so of course, I found comfort in sucking my teat constantly. Hopefully, she won’t catch on!


Age 1 + 4 months