Binky Boot Camp and a VIDEO

After an enlightening conversation with a patient today (who is a retired kindergarten teacher of 33 years), I decided that it's time for me to let Brax move on to big-boydom. I used to say that I would never even offer my baby a pacifier, let alone allow my toddler to use one. In my defense, I do usually limit it to naptime and nite time, but when a kid is old enough to talk, he's old enough to lose the "ni-nite," as Brax calls it.

I so admit that I have been stalling. Mike has been pushing me to toss them for weeks now, but I just wasn't ready. I was a little sad that he's already old enough to not need his ni-nites anymore, and I was feeling a little guilty for taking away what seems to be such a pleasure for him. I was also feeling a little lazy, not wanting to deal with the fit I was just sure would ensue at bedtime. But after talking with Barb (my patient), I was reminded that being a good parent doesn't always feel good. Doing what's best for Brax (teaching him how to self-calm, and saving him from a pacifier-shaped palate) isn't always what's easiest (or most natural) for me (keeping him from feeling discomfort of any kind... holding on to my "baby.")

So when I got home from work, I gathered up his collection of ni-nites and put them away. I will find them a permanent home in the basement along with his other "baby things" soon, but I have to take baby steps (for me, not him!) When it came time for his ni-nite this evening (right after bath, as I put lotion and jammies on him), he began to ask for it.

"Ni nite? Ni nite?"

I told him I didn't know where they were. (Usually when I say this, it means they are all between the wall and his crib from the night before. I then proceed to get a baseball bat and push them all out from under the crib so he can pick them up. He likes one in his mouth and one in each hand...)

"Bat? Bat?" he asked.

We got the bat and together, we searched under the bed for his missing ni-nites (which I had already confiscated.) He didn't seem too upset that they weren't there. He said good nite to Daddy, and we sat down in the glider to read books. He did just fine thru storytime, and when I turned out the lights to rock, he happily sang and chatted away. Since he was so jolly but yawning profusely, I gave him a kiss, put him in his crib, and walked out.

Then he got pissed.

For almost 25 minutes he stood there and screamed. And stomped his feet. And shook the crib rail.

I was just about to go in and console him when he laid down. He screamed some more (but this was progress--at least he was laying down!) He thrashed around, trying to get his blanket just right enough to take away the "pain" of not having a binky to suck on.

Finally, after only 30 minutes (I was expecting much worse), he was out.

Whew.

That wasn't so bad. I'm proud of both of us. As usual, Mike was right...

So as of tomorrow morning, I have an official BIG BOY who doesn't need a ni-nite.
*sniff sniff* YAYYYYY!!!!


Here is a video I shot on 3/26... I was prompting him to say words, and when we said "ni-nite" he scurried over to the drawer in the kitchen where he knows we keep a spare one. (Sometimes I let him have it when I think he's teething... Now I'm realizing that he was probably fussing just so he could get his binky, not because his teeth hurt!) You'll hear some of his new-found vocabulary, too. He decided he could talk within the last few weeks.