Maeve broke up with her pacifier this week on Tuesday. It was like she had drawn a line in the sand: thus far and no farther. She cried with her mouth closed so I can't slip it in, she bats it away when it gets close and spits it out if I somehow manage to get one in. After a day of fighting her about it, I gave in: no more paci.
She liked the Soothie they gave her at the hospital, and wouldn't take one at all when I was breastfeeding her. Once she went on the bottle after her second month, she went back to liking them again, the Nuk kind, until last Tuesday.
This is partially a relief; I shall not have to invent tales of a "Binky Fairy" when she's two or three, and she's still working on sucking her thumb or fingers occasionally. And she chews on her blanket, bib, or fingers to soothe her gums.
What it made me realize is every day Maeve becomes a little more her person, a little less controllable. Now she has to kind of fuss herself to sleep for naps, where a paci used to work just fine. But I can't talk her back into using one or even force one on her, and I wouldn't if I could. These are things she gets to decide. Nothing too big just yet, she's not picking out paint colors for her room or applying for colleges yet, but we may as well start with the small stuff.
|A long, long time ago!|