There comes a time when you just have to put on your big girl pants and do what’s best for the people you love. Even if it means you can foresee your own suffering.
Dummies, also known as pacifiers are Henry’s BFFs. It’s the first thing he thinks about in the morning and the last thing he seeks for at night. His attachment to dummies is equal to that of a security blanket or a snuggle toy for bed. Sometimes, kids outgrow these things and sometimes you just have to force them to.
“Where’s my dummy?” Henry whines.
“We gave it to Alex; the baby, remember?” I remind him gently, “You’re a big boy now. You don’t need a dummy.”
Henry goes into prone position and wails, “I need my dummy! I need to breathe!”
“No. No dummy Henry,” I say, mustering up all my strength for the impending tantrum. I give him a pat on the back. Big mistake. Rookie error.
“I want handies!” he yells, as he reaches out to hold my hand.
I roll my eyes and think to myself, “Get in line kid.”
“I want to touch your arm!” Henry demands.
“I want to touch your body Mummy!!” cries Henry, his little hand reaching out to seek comfort.
“No,” I giggle. “Are you channelling your dad?”
Henry rolls around in his cot and pounds his tiny fists into the mattress. He gives me crocodile tears for a good five minutes before changing tack.
“Mummy, my noodle hurts!” says Henry, sitting up.
This kid is relentless at bedtime. I would kill to go to bed early and have a big sleep.
“Uh-huh, point to your noodle,” I ask, because really… that could mean anything.
Henry points to his elbow and says, “It’s not fair really.”
“It’s fine. Go to sleep.” I turn to leave.
Henry starts the waterworks and like the sucker that I am, his cries tug at my heartstrings.
“Mummy! I want my dummy!!” Henry sobs. Snot is dribbling down his nose; his face has turned red; tears are streaming down his cheeks.
I feel my resolve disintegrate into smithereens. Reluctantly, I return and give him my hand.
“Go to sleep Henry,” I reassure him. Thank goodness I threw out the dummies into the bin at the shops and not at home. I’d probably be rummaging through it just about now.
Henry calms down and says, “I love you lots Mummy.”
His words are a balm for my weary soul. I can never get enough. “I love you too pork chop. GO. TO. SLEEP.”
“I’d do anything for you Mummy,” Henry continues with his declarations of love.
I chuckle and sing, “But I won’t do that!”
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