Don't Do Me Like That

Yesterday I told a tale of paper and eyes and assumed that I'd told part two, The Bink Fairy, in a previous blog. Seems I didn't, and, as I'd like to appease you, loyal reader, here's what happened next.

Rach had planned on running some errands, so she was going to get the Wubster in bed and take off. After the eye incident she was thinking about sticking around so I didn't have to deal with my paper cut AND Mini-Me.

I had plans of my own.

In my pain-induced haste, I decided that I was ready for Mini-Me to give up his bink that particular night. It had NOTHING to do with me exacting revenge for him dragging the 11" edge of a piece of computer paper across my eyeball.

What do you mean you don't believe me?

I'd mentioned wanting to take Mini-Me to Build-A-Bear so that he could put the bink inside a bear and then still "have it", but Rach held firm to the idea that, in a midnight rage, he would rip the stuffed animal apart to get at the bink. From what I know of him now...Mini-Me certainly could have done that.

After little debate, I conceded to her idea to cut a bit of the tip of the bink, and continue doing so over the course of several evenings until the bink lost its magic (aka suction) and the kiddo no longer wanted it. She said it would work, so I went for it. In fact, I didn't even call her in for a consult...

As I completed my surgically precise cut, as close to the tip as I could, the bink ripped open like Jaws, devouring all hope that this plan would succeed.

Still, I proceeded back to Mini-Me's room and nonchalantly handed him the bink. He popped it in his mouth and we plopped into bed to read stories.

"Daddy!" He pulled the bink from his mouth, cocked his head to the side, and stared quizzically. "My bink is broken!"

I looked up at Rach, whose head was also cocked quizzically to the side as Mini-Me's tears flowed, bottom lip quivered, and she decided to go ahead and take care of those errands.

"Uh...see ya! Good luck with that!"
"Well, buddy...it, uh...must be because you're too big for the bink now. You're so strong that you broke it."
"Waaaaaahhhhh!!! My bink!!!!!"
"It just means..."
"Waaaahhhh!!!"
"Hey...buddy...it just..."
"Waaaahhhhh!!!!!"
"You're a big boy now. You don't need a bink."
"Waaaahhhh!!!!"
Text message from Rach: Don't you DARE give him another bink...finish what you started, dumba$$ (Technically not accurate as my memory of Rachel's input on this is fuzzy, but it's close.)
"Waaaahhhhh!!!!"
"Oh! Uh, Mini-Me! This is exciting! I almost forgot!"
"Waaaa...ht?"
"This means the Bink Fairy will show up tonight!"
"The who?"
"The Bink Fairy!"
"What's the Bink Fairy?"
"She comes at night when little boys and girls have grown too big for their binks and she replaces them with treats. You just have to put the bink under your pillow and go to sleep. When you wake up there will be a surprise for you!"

I'd never seen the kid move so fast as he did in that moment. All crying stopped, the bink flew under the pillow, the kid went right to sleep, and I scoured the house for gifts to put under his pillow, finally settling on a chocolate chip cookie and a Matchbox car. He flipped out the next morning and devoured the cookie before coming to tell us that the Bink Fairy had arrived. The following evening I left for volleyball and to avoid any possible relapses, Rach made sure Mini-Me knew that the Bink Fairy always returns to check up on the children and make sure they didn't start using a bink again and he hasn't used a bink since.

See! That was easy. I knew what I was doing all along!