It’s official.
My two and twenty-three-month-old is finally off the
paci. And he’s thrilled.
Please don’t judge me – I know he was old to still use
one. But both Frances and George were
addicted to those suckers, which admittedly lent to good leverage (“if you don’t
stop fussing I am going to take your paci away!”) and quieter car rides. After infanthood, we limited the pacis to bedtime
and car seats; but they were still a huge part of our lives. I did have the good sense with Frances to
make the paci cut-off at three-years-old.
I figured that by that age, you could reason with them more. With her, it worked like a charm. She was so happy to be turning three, she
didn’t mind giving up her beloved paci in exchange for the status of “big”
girl. With George, however, as he’s been
inching his way closer and closer to three-years-old, I have been increasingly more
terrified. As you may have garnered from
this blog, George is just slightly less reasonable than Frances. Couple that with an even greater addiction to
his paci and you have a recipe for some serious bedtime power struggles.
But, as if to save us from such a fate, George started
chewing through his pacis at night (frightening thought for a parent, though). He never chewed the plastic nipple completely
off, but just enough to render the paci unsafe and uncomforting. Within a month, he chewed through every paci
we had in the house and, well, that was that.
So far, he’s been coping pretty well with his missing
appendage (although, wouldn’t you know it that as I am writing this very
sentence I had to go upstairs and fuss at George for crying in the middle of
naptime. It is amazing how kids can
sense just when you’re starting to
feel confident about your ability to parent well only to prove you otherwise). If things continue to go this well, our
little family may just reached yet another milestone—no more reasons to shop at
Babies R Us.
Darn.
Happy September 1st, everyone!
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