Milk and the machine

Every baby deserves mother's milk. It is the best possible food, strengthens the maternal bond and reduces the risk of long and short-term illness for mother and child alike. It is simply meant to be. And it's inspiring to watch, even during a slightly awkward moment in the middle of Pizza Express:

It is also nature's way of fighting back against gender equality. It's a binding contract for mummy to always be the one who gets up in the night, to never stray too far or too long from baby's side.

I sometimes feel guilty about this, maybe even a little inadequate, but mostly just grateful.

Can I help? No? Shall I just carry on picking my nose and playing online poker then? Sweet. Far be it from me to argue with nature's whim.

All well and good. Until the machines take over:

It could only be the Philips Avent ISIS iQ UNO. Mummy attached it to her boob and squeezed the handle a couple of times to mimic Luca's feeding action. I then watched in horror as the machine continued on its own, mechanically extracting milk from the mother of my firstborn child. And I just stood there and let it.

When I come home from work one of these days to find it sitting in my chair, snuggling up to my woman and ordering me to fetch it a cold beer, I'll probably just do as I'm told.

Threats to my masculinity aside, I have to admit that it's amazing. It let me feed my baby for the first time - magic.

We now have a growing stockpile of frozen milk and we are on the road to revolution. Whisper it, but one of these days we might even get a babysitter and go on an actual date.

At the very least, mummy can go out and let her hair down and I can have a night in, just me and my boy. I just know he's going to love poker.