Right now - as I type - my daughter is in bed without her nimmie. So is my son. (I'm running out of ways to emphasize things. If this goes on much longer, I'm going to have to animate the words and put blinking lights around them circa the 1998 Interweb - remember that?)
Pause. I need to calm down. It's just not right to be this excited about something so inconsequential (Keep in mind, you're talking to the girl who looks forward to tax time and new Terry Pratchett books. Adjust your expectations accordingly.)
And to be perfectly honest, it never really bothered me that she had it. Like I said when Stephanie graciously let me guest post at Momma Be Thy Name, I have no pressing dental, medical, or even ideological reason for wanting Miss to get over her nimmie. I just figured it would happen eventually.
Because of the gross-ness.
Yesterday, Diana at Hormonal Imbalances posted Should My 2 Year Old Still Have A Pacifier, and when she wrote that her pediatrician told her “We don’t do pacifiers and you need to throw it away immediately." it made me want to encourage Miss to keep hers until she's sixteen in solidarity. The nerve!
But when bedtime came, and Mr and I realized that if we can get Jr to go to sleep now - when he's still completely confined to his crib and can't jump out of bed every six seconds - without his nimmie, we'll be years ahead when the time comes to graduate him to a big boy bed. So we hid it.
And it worked.
And then tonight, I mentioned (totally in passing and not at all in an attempt to make her copy him) to Miss that Jr was such a big boy now that he didn't need his nimmie anymore. Two minutes later, she said she didn't want hers anymore either.
Everybody hold your breath. Not that I care or anything.
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