Sad Goodbyes

It started with a small tear that gradually grew.  I watched it grow with trepidation, hoping the day it turned into a choking hazard would not come too soon.  Some big crocodile tears were shed this past weekend as a little boy realized his beloved pacifier was broken. 

You may think I sound overly dramatic.  Last year we stupidly and mistakenly tried taking away the pacifier cold turkey, traumatizing the whole family in the process.  (Two year olds should not stay awake until midnight.)

This past Saturday, I was fully expecting to have a long night trying to reteach Caleb how to fall asleep.  Surprisingly, he quickly fell asleep and has slept normally (if not easily) since, aside from a few early mornings. 

We’ve offered to let him keep his dilapidated remnant of a pacifier, but he’s made it very clear that he doesn’t like it. If telling us or throwing it off the bed wasn’t enough, he has also left it several times on the farthest corner of the bed, as if it had cooties. 

He’s still plotting how he can get another one from the store, so we won’t be going by that aisle for a very long time.  Thankfully he hasn’t realized that he could raid Sophia’s unused stash of rejected pacifiers right next door. 

And now when I check on him sleeping, I leave his room thinking, “He looks so old.” 

Here’s to growing up—moms who learn from their mistakes and little boys who learn to grieve over a broken pacifier.