There are plenty of words I could use to describe Susie, but that one pretty much gets to the heart of it.
I was reminded of this anew a couple of nights ago. It was 2:00 AM and I couldn't sleep, so I was sitting up in bed for a couple of hours working on an article. Susie and Oliver (he sleeps with us) were next to me. I'm telling you, the boy's a human cacophony over there, what with all the rooting and snorting, the slurping and burping, the gasping and spitting. And I haven't even mentioned the grunting and the fussing and the intense straining. I mean, why does it always have to be some sort of gastrointestinal death match? Just go already.
About the only thing the boy doesn't do is cry. He doesn't really get an opportunity to cry, because Susie is there holding him close -- nursing him, burping him, patting him, caressing him. I noticed for about an hour he was asleep on her chest. The lad isn't going to have attachment problems. He is loved selflessly.