Guess where my twizzlers go?

Dash-2 was running thru the center hallway downstairs and of course, took a spill and cracked his head. He cried and cried all while clutching half a twizzler (the remnants of his commissary treat).

I scooped him up and we sat on the stairs, he buried his head on my shoulder and as he started to calm down he did the strangest thing.

He tucked in the remainder of his twizzler in my bra and said very nicely, "Pease hold mommy".

I suppose the combination of my ever expanding boobs and the way he was sitting thus pulling down my v-neck shirt exposed the perfect twizzler holder for a boy on the run.

Good to know my boobs are useful for something even before the breastfeeding starts.