I told my child a lie.
A big bald-faced whopper.
I had to.
Here it is:
“Did you know that in Fairyland, the Fairy Queen is expecting? She is.
The baby Fairy Princess is about to be born but there is a huge problem. There are no dummies (pacifiers) in Fairyland. *GASP* The Fairy queen has been looking far and wide for a special little girl who is nearly big to give all her dummies to the brand new Fairy Princess. (Manipulative? Me? NEVER.) These dummies will be collected from The Fairy Tree in the middle of the night by The Dummy Fairy, who will leave a special gift from Fairyland as a token of gratitude.”
Baby G is four years old and as far as I am concerned, these dummies are just not cool anymore. They are fairly hideous actually and I have to be honest – she really is getting too big, much as it pains me to admit this. Have you smelt dummy breath? If you have a dummy-addicted child, you know what I am talking about. Bleurgh. Also, the teeth. Not to mention the Dummy-induced speech issues (apparently a “guck” goes quack).
I’ve been spinning this (genius) tale for a few months now and hoping that she’ll come to the point where she volunteers to be The Special Little Girl who kindly relinquishes her stash of
Well, a week ago, at bedtime, Baby G gathered up all her dummies and declared she was ready to give them to the Dummy Fairy. Suddenly, out of nowhere. BAM – just like that. Hubby and I were terrified. She was fine. We visualised nights of screaming. She visualised goodies from Fairyland.
Before bed, she wrote a letter to the Dummy Fairy and asked me to post it so that she would know to come (all together now: Awwww.)
I thought this whole dummy-free thing would go pear-shaped, but, miraculously it didn’t. She cried a little, tried sucking on her blanket, my finger, her toes… nothing worked. Eventually, she went to sleep, frantically and pitifully sucking on her own tongue. I was so proud. Big lump in throat. As soon as she was asleep, Project Dummy Fairy began. I had found a little gift box a few weeks before and had been collecting little bits and pieces in anticipation (I am never this organised. Never. I am even impressed by this) and set about getting her treasure box from Fairyland organised.
I tiptoed outside and hung the box in the
spiky plant Fairy Tree, then poured Pixie Dust pink glitter in a trail along the ground to the doggie door. I *may* have also gone into Baby G’s bedroom and liberally sprinkled Poor Baby G with copious amounts of pink glitter – PROOF that the Dummy Fairy has been to visit.
The next morning, the excitement was birthday-party big. I was woken by my little girl, shrieking and jumping up and down and saying “Look! I am all sparkly!” We all ran outside and followed the trail to the tree, where we discovered the treasure box.
Needless to say, Baby G was delighted with her bling and had to show and tell everyone all about it the next day. That night, however, the novelty of no more dummy wore off. She cried so broken-heartedly at bedtime that night and the next. She wailed and sobbed. I couldn’t give back her precious dummies, so I did the next best thing. I climbed into bed with her and joined in. Together we howled about how haaaard it is. We clung to each other and agreed that not having a dummy to suck… well, it sucks. Then, as she squeezed my finger with her chubby little hand, she listened as I described the brand new baby Fairy Princess who was SO HAPPY because a kind little girl called Graceful G gave her her very own precious dummies.
She hiccuped and gulped and together we lay as she valiantly drifted off to sleep, dummyless.
I hope she dreamed of Fairies.
Tonight, just five days since she quit, cold turkey, she climbed into her bed, grinned at me and said “I’m a big girl now!” Then she happily closed her eyes and went to sleep.
My baby is growing up. I’m happy and proud.
But, I’m also a little sad.
You see, she’s fine. But I miss her dummies now… It seems I was a little addicted too.
Have you had to go through dummy-withdrawal? How did you handle it?
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