There were shouts; there were crashes. Small humans and a midsized canine hurtled by with impressive volume and velocity. The world all around was a cacophonous confusion of mass and motion.
Cut to me sitting contentedly on the couch in the midst of it all, cozily nursing BabyBoy and singing Dona Nobis Pacem (harder to do as canon when it’s just me singing, but fortunately I’ve got enough personality facets to cover it and then some. All those inner voices are good for something).
So maybe there really is something to that “feel-good/bonding hormone” aspect of breastfeeding. Go figure.