Choochies

I don't remember exactly when we gave Thomas his first pacifier. Karen thinks it happened a few months after we brought him home, but before we sent him to Julie's. Whenever it was, my son fell in love for the first time that day. And before we knew it, we had a full blown obsession on our hands.



















I'm not judging. I was an avowed thumbsucker until I was at least 5. I had this weird routine where I would lay down about 2 feet in front of our TV set, get my He-Man pillow, and settle in for a nice morning of cartoons and thumbsucking. That's just classic way to spend a Saturday right there. Thomas also has an uncle (no names) who still has a very personal relationship with his thumb. Grandpa Greg had his Marlboros, and has thankfully transitioned to his gum. I can't speak for my Dad's dad, Thomas, but I would wager that he had a wee bit of the old OConnor oral fixation as well. We are strong men. We are proud men. We are men who put things in our mouths.

At Julie's, Thomas has a friend named Lena. Lena is Italian I believe, and her grandmother is REALLY Italian. This story is still a little unclear to me, as I heard it third or fourth hand, but apparently choochie or something that sounds like that is an Italian curse word that means dumb jackass. At some point, Lena heard it and asked what it was and was told it was a pacifier. Thus, through a fun little game of Italian Telephone, we end up with a child who in the middle of a packed mall or restaurant is basically screaming, "I WANT MY DUMB JACKASS."



















We were diligent with when and for how long, we let Tommy have his choochie. Always at bedtime, and always in the car. Then every once in a while when he would have a tantrum or if he was really sick and needed comfort.  And it really is a great tool. It helps in so many ways, and on the whole, the good from the pacifier outweighed the bad by a wide, wide margin over the last 2 years. But, even the best laid plans eventually go awry, and his need for his choochie grew and grew. And after our umpteenth morning with a screaming match over his choocie, we decided it was time to draw a line.


















Karen started talking about the Choochie Fairy that very morning, and by weekend we were ready to say goodbye to the dumb jackasses once and for all. We got a small box, addressed it to the Choochie Fairy at 1 Choochie Lane, Choochieville, SD, and loaded it with the 3 pacifiers we had left. Thomas put them in there himself and walked them out to the mailbox. The whole ordeal took maybe 2 minutes. We got in the car and went about our day, and I won't say it was a well received decision, but I will say it only took about a week before the word choochie disappeared from the halls of this house.

And honestly, he's so much happier without it. Even at 2, it was a crutch for him and removing it helped him to figure out that he didn't actually need it anymore. He's talking twice as much as he used to, which seems impossible and instead of sucking on a pacifier before bed, he just quietly goes into his crib and reads books until his nightlight turns off.

Potty training is up next. I hope it goes as smoothly as this did, but I know I wasn't a great student in this subject myself. And then in July we'll welcome a new baby, and I'm sure, another ride on the carousel of dumb jackass choochies.