Trying to get Maya back ON the bottle

Yesterday with Maya was one of those days that new Dads whisper about while hoping it never actually befalls them. Call it a full day of screaming-mad intensity. Call it being unable to give the baby the one thing she most desperately wants. Call it a reason to question my gender's fitness to claim parenting rights. Sarah went back to work - taking a 12-hour call at the hospital - and took with her the breasts that are unquestionably Maya's best friends at this point in her young social life. And with her on-again, off-again courtship with "the bottle" turning decidedly off-again, Maya and I did whatever a man and a baby can do to bridge the gap between what was needed and what was accepted on her end. If she were a teenager, I'm sure Maya wouldn't be talking to me today. Thankfully, she's a baby and her ability to retain resentment lasts only about as long as a clean diaper. So I shook off her angry rants and we mixed those periods of bottle-refusing-frustration with a couple long walks in the Park and every available form of distraction I've got in my arsenal for Maya-pleasing. After we picked up Sarah last night, Maya ate heartily and then crashed like a sorority pledge following her first beer bong. This morning all's well in the world of Maya. But we know that we need to get her over this hump with daily attempts at bottle-feeding or else Sarah's return to more regular clinical duties will coincide with more irregularity and irritation on Maya's part. Any suggestions y'all might have on how best to make the bottle a pleasant thing to see brought into the feeding array will be welcomed with gracious appreciation. Rock on.