When I was pregnant, I was *that* mommy-to-be that said “my kid wont need a pacifier”. I thought with enough love and cuddles and support that I could soothe any fuss. But as with many other things, I was quickly jolted to reality when I realized how that binkie / nookie / life-support-plug quickly revolutionized my son’s emotions. In those first critical weeks of his life, we would sanitize and wash that pacifier anytime it left his lips. Should it fall on the floor, we would act as if it fell into a pile of hot, steaming dog poop and quickly perform the sterilization process (i.e., boil the pacifier, remove it with tongs, ensure that it doesn’t touch ANYTHING until his next use). Fast forward five months later, when that pacifier falls on the floor, as it does a hundred times a day, I find intense satisfaction when I look down to find it sitting “nookie plug up”. Sometimes I cheer quietly to myself. Small victories.
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