I’m embarrassed to admit that Wesley, who just turned three, still has a pacifier. We try to only let him have it at night time and at nap time but he would prefer to have it all day long. I know, I know, we should have taken it away a long time ago. I tried, believe me. For a while we were doing really well. I think we also tried to convince ourselves that eventually he would just give it up on his own. Which was about as realistic as expecting a car to change its own oil.
It’s been really bothering me lately. I hate the daily fights when I try to take it away from him repeatedly. I don’t like waking up in the night because someone lost their pacifier and needs help finding it in the dark. And I probably spend, on average, 20 minutes a day looking for someone’s paci (pronounced passy) – 20 minutes that I want to reclaim and spend doing something more useful – like watching Dr. Phil. I know that the easy solution is to just take it away and go “cold turkey” for him and for Wyatt. If we don’t do something soon, Bryan will have to teach Wesley to shave with a pacifier in his mouth. It is going to be painful for all of us but I think in the end, will be so much easier.
So last night I was trying to think of some psychological trick to use and make Wesley want to give up his pacifiers. I want it to be his idea. I just don’t think the “pacifier fairy” is going to work at our house. I was watching him be nice to his baby brother and it hit me.
“Wesley, maybe it’s time to gather up all your pacifiers and Wyatt’s pacifiers and take them to the hospital. That way the nurses can give them to the brand new babies since you and Wyatt are getting to be such big boys,” I said, sure that I could convince him that tiny newborn babies in need were worthy of his pacifiers. And for a second, I can see that he is thinking about this.
Then, from the kitchen I hear Bryan shout, “Are you kidding? There is no way the nurses are going to give their old pacifiers to new babies.”
Sometimes Bryan and I are so in sync that it feels like we share a brain. And sometimes not. Perhaps we’d better discuss our stance on Santa Clause before Christmas comes along.