Ditching the Bink

Lily is a thumb-sucker. She has been since she was about 6 months old. When she first started, I was honestly ok with it. No needed to buy binkies. No hunting down the missing binky. No getting up in the middle of the night to return the binky. She was completely able to self-soothe, and I was thankful. Plus, sucking her thumb was mostly reserved for when she was tired or hungry or really distressed.

But when Timothy was born, I decided the bink was the way to go. Lily was three and half at the time and still sucking her thumb. Two years later, she still does on occasion. Not very often, for sure. Usually when she's really tired, and still when she's really distressed and upset, but there's not really anything I can do at this point other than encourage her to stop. So for Timothy, I decided I wanted the control. I wanted to be able to take the bink away when it was time. I don't know if he would have ever turned into a thumb-sucker, but his bink was always close, so there was no need. When he turned two, we cracked down. Nap time and bed time only. Most of the time. Admittedly, there were times we gave in. And he's not a dumb kid. He knew where the bink was in the diaper bag and would go hunt for it. When he'd wake up, it was chucked into his bed, and sometimes he could reach between the slats and get it. When we converted to a toddler bed about a month ago, it was amazingly easy for him to retrieve it. If we managed to get it away from him again, it ended up on a counter or the bookcase, and once he'd see it a couple hours later, it was all he wanted.

I was dreading the day we took it away completely. And I wasn't sure what the plan of attack would be. I'd read different theories, like having the kid either watch you or making them throw it away. There's also the method that involves taking a pair of scissors to it while your kid watched. But they seemed so cruel. I mean, come on. They're attached to the thing and you cut it all up. I figured cold turkey was the way to go, but I wasn't looking forward to it.

Then last week happened. I could not find the bink any where. I had a spare in the medicine cabinet, but I decided to see what would happen. So when it was time for bed, we brushed his teeth. We grabbed his blanket. We read some stories. We sang a few songs. Then I put him in bed. And then he asked for bink. "Sorry, buddy," I said. "I don't know where bink is." "Bink?" he asked again. "I don't know where it is. Say bye-bye, bink."

And he did. Could it really be that easy? I guess so, because he hasn't looked back. I can only hope potty training is just as easy. The missing bink mysteriously reappeared a few days later, luckily while Timothy was busy doing something else. It was quickly whisked out of sight, never to be seen again.