My son is in desperate need of a 12-step program or the patch or some aversion therapy. And his mother and I have not been much help, the enablers that we are. He needs it when he wakes up. He looks for it immediately after getting out of the tub. He has it in hand before he finishes his last bite at dinner. He uses it to make a point and he uses it while he’s deep in thought. He has secret stashes – inside a toybox, in the back of a drawer, stuffed in a pillow case.

The it? His pacifier…his binky…his paci.

I know, I know. He’s two. We should have broken him of this habit a long, long time ago. But it soothed him and that was really important when Little Dubyette came a long. Not only did it soothe him, it stopped the brain-melting, nails-on-a-chalkboard whining. So, rather than pull a Van Gogh, it was easier to give in and give him the pacifier. Aaaahhhh, blessed quiet.

However, it’s gotta go. It’s a habit that needs to be broken; has to be broken. But, dear Lord, the whining. The whiiiiiiinniinnggg. We’re trying to be strong. For now, he only gets it at bedtime, but we’re trying to phase that out as well. Hopefully, in a few days we’ll have nipped this in the bud. Hey, stop judging me. Yeah, you. The one whose daughter has her thumb in her mouth. Need the name of a good orthodontist?

Oh, yeah – any suggestions on coping with the whining breaking this habit are greatly appreciated.