...is that he doesn’t have milk producing breasts.
It’s like this. I get up at 5am and slowly and gently pry my body away from the sleeping baby. About 3 minutes into my shower he wakes up. Sometimes I hear the husband try in vain to calm him as he hollers his disapproval. When I come to him, barely clothed and with my dripping wet head wrapped in a towel, he looks at me with surprise and admonishment. His eyes then turn down towards my chest and you would think it had been 15 hours rather than 15 minutes since he had last nursed.
He latches on, and looks up to my eyes as if to say “How can you possibly expect me to tolerate Daddy? Don’t you know by now I must have my soft pillows filled with warm sweet milk no more than 2 inches from my face at all moments? Duh!”