The stranger in the lift, a lady of about 50, peered into the pram. Her questions were the usual suspects: “How old?” “What’s his name?” “Is he your first?” I answered them all obligingly before she dropped the big one: “Are you breastfeeding?”
For a second I was lost for words. With a blush rising up my face, I faltered, uttering unintelligible sounds before I found the courage to give my answer. “No.”
“That’s a shame,” she responded, lips pursed.
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