Diana ruined Luca’s last pacifier. I want that on the record so he’ll be able to place that vague feeling he has a hole in his life, decades from now.
As you recall from the post just below this one, Luca is down to his last pacifier. Our passive aggressive way of weaning him off his paci habit for good. Luca’s doc suggested we adjust his last pacifier to keep him from ruining his teeth and end up looking like Steve Buscemi when he turns 3.
First, she said poke a hole in the top of the…uh…nippular region. Which we did a few weeks ago. I guess it relieves some of the pressure. Luca didn’t seem to mind. But when he sucked, it gave off a weird spitty sound. Like a Redneck disposing of Skoal juice.
As a nuclear option, our doctor suggested cutting the top of the pacifier off. Diana did this last night and destroyed Luca. After a few half hearted sucks, he became furious. And hilariously petulant.
He dramatically flung the pacifier to the ground and said, “Throw my paci into the garbage! Throw my paci into the garbage!”
We tried to put his pacifier on his dresser, within easy reach in case he needed comfort in the middle of the night but he couldn’t stand the sight of what used to be the most important thing in the world, now ruined. He wouldn’t stop crying until it was out of the room, in the garbage.
And then the withdrawals started. Luca cried out several times last night needing comfort. The kind of comfort usually supplied by a plastic chew toy. I’m tempted to go to Walgreens on the way home to get him an emergency pacifier.
But that’s called enabling, isn’t it?
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