I came across this picture yesterday.
I vividly remember when it was taken– Ben was almost two and still horribly attached to the pacifier. I had vowed again and again to finally take it away, but with a new baby around, it was just impossible for me to be hard on him. It was literally plastered to his mouth 24/7; he would take it out to speak (occasionally) and eat. That was it. I felt like the most horrible mother in the world and remember thinking that he might, actually, be that kid who goes to college using a pacifier.
The same thing happened with diapers. He was tough and I was lazy and the two were a dangerous combination. It was easier to just keep him in Pull-Ups than deal with the mess. I was cleaning up enough piss with a newborn, and the fewer accidents, the better. I remember thinking that he might, actually, be that kid who goes to kindergarten in diapers.
After months and months of half-assed attempts, suddenly the pacifier and diapers just seemed to disappear overnight. There was no drama and no great production– when it was time, it was time. He was ready.
Seeing that big pacifier plastered to his face reminded me that my kids (all kids?) seem to do things so much better on their own time. Some nights, it seems like Jeff and I will never have our bed back to ourselves or that I’ll never been done wiping little boy tushes, but I know the day will be here too soon. It all goes by so fast and some things just aren’t worth the fight until they’re ready.
Besides, if anyone is going to be that kid, it’s Evan. And, by number three you just don’t care anymore.