Let's pretend for a minute that you woke up in the middle of the night screaming for me because you pooped your pants. Like, really pooped your pants a lot.
Because I presumably love you, I clean you up - while you scream in my face the entire time. I'll go ahead and chalk that up to the fact that no one likes to sleep in an inescapable container of their own poop.
Now, let's assume you're a bit of a hog and since you're awake, you decide you might like a little snack and who can blame you really. I just cleaned up a good portion of your body weight; so it stands to reason you would be a little peckish.
While we're at it, let's conjecture that your favorite meal is milk...from my breast. And we all know I'm a giver. So I get us set up in a comfy chair because it's 3 in the morning and I want you to have a full stomach so you can go back to enjoying your blissful dreams.
To recap our imaginary scenario: It's 3 AM. I've cleaned your poop mess. I'm getting ready to feed you because you're hungry.
Why, I ask you, why would you thank me with a titty twister?