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No more paci

Allison

I'm going to jump in the holiday festivities to say that E no longer sleeps with a paci. 

Of note, we called his paci Whoo hoo because it was a paci with a monkey attached to it.  It's one of the things that began his love of monkeys. But lately we had used the ones without the monkey attached because I figured it was pulling on his teeth.

The week before Christmas, I took him home to see my family for an early Christmas trip. I knew I wanted to end the paci, but I was planning on doing it after  the holidays, trips and once we got back into our routine in the new year.  

I traveled to Little Rock with two pacies. One he was using to nap and sleep, and the other was a backup. He had begun biting through the pacies on accident so I always had more than one on hand.  

The second morning we were in Little Rock, E woke up and said, "Whoo hoo (paci) broken. Need new whoo hoo. "  

Only halfway thinking and planning, I said, "Whoo hoo is broken. No more whoo hoo." As the words left my mouth I realized that I would have to stand behind them. Dang. I just killed Whoo hoo forever.  

He fused a little then, but got up and moving and didn't worry about it. Until naptime. When I went to put him down for nap, he asked for whoo hoo. I repeated the line,"Whoo hoo is broken. No more Whoo hoo. Let's put broken Whoo hoo in the trash. You can sleep without him. You are a big boy." 

Oh the terror. Oh the sad wails and crys and begs that followed. I laid him down once, and left the room. It was not pretty. It was not fun. And I hated to do it at my folks' house. But, if I had let him have a come-a-part, and then taken him the second paci, he would have suffered and learned nothing. 

So he cried, and I felt awful. But he finally slept. When he woke up from his nap, I praised him for not using a paci. We called Daddy and told him all about it. Everyone danced around and clapped. 

That night there were still some more tears for Whoo hoo, but they were very short lived.  

When he woke up the next day, I praised him again. That day's nap included no mention of Whoo hoo. So when he woke up that time, I didn't say anything about it.  

The rest of the trip was great with no paci.  

We got home, and he got into bed that night and said, "Need new Whoo hoo at home, mommy." Dang. He thinks "home" has a new paci like it always has. "No Whoo hoo,"I said. "Remeber Whoo hoo broke at Gran's and you threw it away?"  

He rubbed his face against his sheet and said, "But I need Whoo hoo, mommy." My heart broke because I really did want to give him that backup Whoo hoo and buy ten more on Amazon. But I made him suffer the lose, and I couldn't take his achievement away from him. "You are a big boy and I'm proud of you. You don't need Whoo hoo to sleep." I teared up. Rubbed his head and left the room.

That's the last we've talked about Whoo hoo. It makes me a bit sad because it's a big lose for a baby and a big step toward a big kid. Yet, I'm so thrilled that he has done great without it. Such mixed emotions. 

Night night, Whoo hoo.

 

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