
*Yes, I am aware that my child looks a little homeless. I assure you her hair was brushed right AFTER this picture.
What? You don’t put up photos of your children with wet, un-brushed hair and bubba teeth?
I used to be one of those moms who was all “Oh yeh, I’ll never lie to my kids. I’ll just only tell them what they specifically ask when things get sticky.”
*snort* Yeh, that didn’t last long.
You know, we thought we were just SO friggin’ smart when we took away her pacifier and let her “find her thumb” – as if it was lost. We figured, “Oh hey, now she can’t lose it!” -And, well, at least that part was true, but after she turned 3, it wasn’t something we were so excited about.
Like any good parents, we did the bribery thing. “Lorelei, let’s not suck your thumb and then we can get you a baby mermaid, okay?” Being the master negotiator that she is (she IS my daughter, after all), she eyed me suspiciously. “You’re going to get me the whale?”
“No, honey. Mommy will get you the Ariel princess baby mermaid. Won’t that be FUN?!” (said a little too excitedly that even the baby knew I was exaggerating)
“Yeh. The Princess whale.”
(I tried not to grin. Oh, she is my daughter! – And, I could completely see her point. Ariel IS almost a whale.) “Yeh, her. But, only if you stop sucking your thumb! Okay?”
“Okay!” She declared, “Look! I no suck my thumb! Where’s my whale?”
I quickly clarified that she had to stop sucking her thumb PERIOD. Then, it became a no-deal. Not even princess whales were worth that.
Then, like any good parent, I upped my tactics and went with the bittertastingthumb. She just frowned and sucked more vigorously. FAIL.
We tried making it a rule, where thumb sucking was no longer allowed.
We tried to reason with the kid, telling her that if she kept sucking her thumb, her teeth would look funny and her finger would be all yucky. She wasn’t too concerned. Oh, she talked about it nonstop with questions, but she did it between sucking.
Our pediatrician even told us that if we were worried enough, we could do the hand cover that she’d wear for several months CONTINUOUSLY that would keep her from physically putting her thumb into her mouth. That seemed a little barbaric to me, so we decided to wait.
I’d finally given up, figuring I’d have a 17 year old thumb-sucker when she asked,
“What’s this?” Pointing to the nasty callous on her thumb. I think my head may have dropped into my hands at that point, not ready for ANOTHER thumb-sucking conversation that would end with… thumb sucking. My husband, without missing a beat, picked up the conversation.
“It’s where you’re sucking your thumb off.”
“I am not!” She said, horrified at the accusation she’d just been charged with.
“Yep, if you suck your thumb too much, it’ll just fall off!”
Eying him suspiciously, she turned to me, “Mommy, is my thumb going to fall off?”
“Um, just listen to your father!” I said too brightly, hightailing it out of the room to fill up my already full glass of water.
She placed her thumb in her mouth, eyes on us, then took it back out. “Can I suck my thumb? Is it going to fall off?”
“That’s up to you! You can suck it if you want to, but it might fall off if you do!”
The seed was planted.
And so it was: If you suck your thumb, it might fall off.
A few days later, in the van:
“Mommy? What’s that?” She said, pointing to a series of ambulances zooming past with their sirens blaring.
Without missing a beat, I replied, “Probably someone’s finger fell off…. Lorelei! Check your thumbs! Are they still there?”
She pulled out her thumbs (which were attached).
“Phew. That was close.” I said, as my mother gave me a sideways glance from the driver’s seat and mouthed “Whattheheck?”
Yep. Parenting at it’s finest.
In related news: Lorelei no longer sucks her thumb!