Nuk Fairy... of doom

Norah is three and still uses a nuk at nap and bedtime. I know she's too old for it. But it's like an addiction. She feels she needs it. She cries when she doesn't have it. She's placed it on the level of Bear Bear and Blanket. I don't want to be the one to take it away.

That's where the Nuk Fairy comes in. She's there to do the dirty work, while I come off scot-free.

I started prepping Norah about the Nuk Fairy months ago. At the first mention of it, there were tears.

"I don't like the Nuk Fairy!" she wailed.

"Honey, she's so nice. She'll give you a present."

"I want my nukky!"

"What about all those new babies who need nukkies?" I asked, pulling something out of my ass I read on another blog about weaning off the pacifier.

"WAAAAH!!"

I stopped the Nuk Fairy talk for a few days after that. But I kept mentioning it occasionally throughout the last few weeks.

"...then she comes while you sleep, and she'll take the nuk and leave you a great, big present."

"She comes in my room?! WAAAH!!"

Oops.

I enlisted the help of my friend, Kim. She had successfully weaned her son, who's just a few weeks older than Norah, off the pacifier. She had told him his nuk was broken. The first night, she poked a hole through the nipple. He didn't notice. Then she cut off a bit. He seemed a little agitated, but nothing serious. More of the nuk "broke," and eventually he was done. I can do that, I thought.

So I started prepping again.

"Sometimes you use your nuk SO much, that it breaks."

"Then we buy a new one?"

"Uh...no. They don't allow 3-year-olds to buy nuks."

"Oh."

What can I say? I'm not good off the cuff. Anyway, we kept talking about it. We told her that it would break little by little, and when it was all gone, the Nuk Fairy (yeah, her again) would bring her a sweet present. She actually seemed semi-cool with it.

Then one evening, as Ryan brushed his teeth and I got Norah a drink before bedtime, she came running into the kitchen.

"MOMMY! MY NUKKY IS BROKEN!"

"What the--" I started. I took a look. Ryan. Ryan.

She was surprised. She still used it, but would take it out of her mouth once and a while and look at it, and fiddle with it with her tongue.

The next day, she didn't use it for nap time. It didn't come up.

And the next night, she had it, but didn't seem so... attached to it.

So, go Team Ryan, right? No. I was kind of pissed. Part of me didn't want her to give up her nuk. I'm a crazy person, right? I know I am. I just feel like it's the last vestige of babyhood. I don't want my baby to grow up. I don't think I'll have another chance at babyhood. I was unreasonably sad, and I went to bed early to read my book alone and cry a little bit, leaving the once-smug-about-the-nuk-thing Ryan mystified at my bizarre behavior.

Then next morning, I heard her singing "Old MacDonald had a farm and Bingo was its name-o!" over the monitor, and I went in her room to say good morning.

"Look, Mommy! I found another nukky!"

Yeah, we didn't look behind the bed. Ryan said we need to let her have this little victory, so I guess I get a few more days of babyhood.