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When one returns to her first day of graduate studies, with a wee babe in tow, the following with undoubtedly occur:

1. While meeting a new professor with whom said student is to serve as a Teaching Assistant, the babe will experience a flatulence unmatched by an orchestra of tubas, french horns and trombones. This cacophony of toots shall end with a blow out that coats both baby and mother in a slick film of yellow baby poop, abruptly halting the rendez-vous with the student’s new employer.

2. While speaking with one’s male adviser, her milk will come raging into the nipples with such force that the student feels as though she is going to rocket across the room and fears hosing her adviser in the eye with the class 4 rapids of milk gushing through her ducts. And to top it all off, she will have forgotten to place breast pads in her brazier, causing this river to drip like a leaky faucet and puddle at her feet mid-conversation. En route to the bathroom to tend to the flood, she will leave a trail of her presence like Hansel & Gretel, except it shall be milky, rather than crumby, in nature.

3. While braving the quiet, studious peace of the library to retrieve a book for one’s first reading assignment of the new semester, the babe will awake from her deep slumber with a fury and rage that shakes the entire building of books, lap tops and intellectual rigor. So much so, that a librarian requests that said student and baby exit the premises, and quickly.

4. While feeding the babe in solitude in the student lounge, the building’s maintenance man will strut in the door right as her boob is out in broad daylight with the SUPER NIPPLE being placed to the skin, screaming like a neon sign PAY ATTENTION TO ME! The poor man will never be able to look said student in the eye. Ever. Again.

But this little one wouldn’t know anything about such experiences.