The Wandering Pacifier

Three Thursdays ago, I took Shlomo with me to see an apartment in a different city.  By the time I got back, I had a migraine.  I met Yitzchak at the Central Bus Station, and he offered to take Shlomo back with him, to get the stroller.  (I had left the stroller with Yitzchak, so I wouldn’t have to drag it with me on the intercity bus.)

Shlomo and Yitzchak walked off, and I caught a bus home.  I had about 45 minutes of quiet, and then I heard the two of them coming back.  As soon as the door opened, Yitzchak said, “Did you give me his pacifier?”

“Yep,” I said.  “It was in his mouth.”

“Well, it’s gone now,” said Yitzchak.

Oh, well.  The clip was starting to break anyways, and the pacifier, even though it was still good, was a few weeks away from needing to be replaced.  So be it.  Pacifiers come in packages of two, so we took the second one and gave it to Shlomo.

For illustrative purposes only. Courtesy of Google Images.

Fast forward a week and a half.  The phone rings.  It’s Yitzchak.

“Chana, guess what?”

“What?”

“Guess what I found?”

Nu, stop keeping me in suspense already.  “What did you find?”

“I was walking outside, talking on the phone, and suddenly I looked up, and there was Shlomo’s pacifier and clip, hanging from a tree.”

What?!?!

He brought it home.  We washed the clip and the pacifier.  The clip is in use, but we still have to sterilize the pacifier – it was kind of gross . . .

Watch Your Step

We are trying to teach Shlomo an important lesson: Don’t get into a place that you can’t get out of.

That is, we are trying to teach him this lesson, literally.  I still have a hard time with this lesson in a figurative sense, although, to my credit, I usually manage it (thank G-d, may it continue).

Listen here, Shlomo, and listen well:

DO NOT get into a place that you can’t get out of.

That means don’t lock yourself in the bathroom, if you’ve never tried unlocking that sticky lock before.  And don’t break the doorknob.  (No, he didn’t do this; why would you even think so?)

That means don’t climb into the playpen if you can’t get out of it by yourself.

That means don’t climb onto a chair that you’re afraid to get off of, because it’s too high and too narrow.

That means don’t get onto a couch that you don’t want to get off of.  It means don’t climb up stairs that you don’t want to climb down.  It means don’t get onto a riding toy that you’re scared to get off of.  (All of which, to your credit, you have managed to conquer, albeit after some prodding.)

It means, in four words:  Think (or look) before you leap.  Not before you open your mouth, or commit to something.  Before you leap – or run, or climb – physically.  Especially into playpens, and onto horizontal surfaces.

Although, Shlomo, to your credit, you seem to do a lot of looking and thinking before you do anything – which means fewer bumps, falls, and bruises for you.  And, apparently, it runs in [your father’s] family – your grandmother said that all of her kids were like that.

See, here’s the rule: Whoever got you into that situation, has to get you out.  It’s hard to enforce this rule right now, but we’re trying.

So it goes like this:  I put you in the playpen, I take you out.  Abba (Daddy) puts you in the playpen, Abba takes you out.  You put yourself into the playpen – better get yourself out.  You’re right, I usually give in to this one.  But only after a few minutes, which, at your age, probably feels like fifteen minutes.  I even tried to teach you how to climb out!  (Yes, you read that right.  I tried to teach you how to climb out, knowing full well that this skill would be applied, almost immediately, to your crib.  Luckily for me, the sides of your playpen are higher than those of the crib (or the mattress is lower, whichever), and you are too careful a toddler to try something that doesn’t look safe.  Or maybe you’re too much of a perfectionist to try something that you’re not certain you’ll succeed at.  Either way, I count myself lucky, and pray that you continue to be this way, and that all your siblings are like this, too.)

Sometimes, though, you’re just a bit too curious.  It runs in the family, it’s true.  But not everything that runs in the family is beneficial.  So, try to curb it – at least until you’re sure that what you’re doing is a good idea.

The Amazing Box

A few weeks ago, my MIL sent us a box of stuff.  Actually, that’s not true.  A few weeks ago, we received a box of stuff that my MIL sent us.  She sent the box a month before we received it; it apparently had gotten stuck at the port, where they had to check its contents and do the rest of the usual customs procedures.  We got a note that we had a box at the post office, and Yitzchak went up to get it, paying 245 shekels (about $62) in customs fees.

The box contained clothes, boots, a coat (remember, it was sent at the beginning of the winter, and Shlomo is her first grandchild) and toys.  The best toy?  The box itself.  Good thing she knew that would happen, or else she might be insulted.

We put Shlomo in the box.  We tickled him while he was in it.  Shlomo drank his milk in the box, and closed the flaps over his head as best he could.  He stepped on it and played with it, colored on it and and climbed in it and dumped it, and eventually, I cut off one of the shorter sides, thinking to throw it away, but deciding that it was still a good toy.   Turns out that was a good decision, because cutting off one of the sides made it even more fun.  Now, Shlomo could get in and out by himself!  Wow, this was cool!

So, in and out he went. He layed down in the box, and asked me to “close” the top of it.  He crawled into it.  He stood it up on its side and put his doll and her stroller into it, and closed the flaps behind them.  He put the box, top down, on the floor, and crawled into the “cave”.  Then I crawled into the cave (only my head and shoulders fit), and he came in after me.  Then, I had to go into the cave again.  And again.

When, two days ago, I was rearranging our storage areas (closets, under beds, boxes, etc.) to put away some clothes, I ended up emptying two boxes.  They were kind of dirty, of course, because they had been outside, but it was late, so I left them on the kitchen floor and went to bed.

And in the morning, the first thing Shlomo wanted to play with were these filthy boxes.  I let him play with them for a few minutes, and then put them outside the door, washed his hands, and gave him his clean, broken box.

I wonder when the box will finally get tossed.  On the other hand, it’s a really good, inexpensive, creative toy.

Pacifier Update

This is an update on today’s earlier post. 

It is 11:08pm.  We Yitzchak found Shlomo’s pacifier about twenty minutes ago, buried in the bathroom garbage under a pile of dirty diapers.  The clip we salvaged, and put it away for the next one.  The pacifier got moved to the kitchen garbage, for some reason that Yitzchak did not explain to me.  Now we know what happened to it, and Shlomo saved us the trouble of throwing it away.  The downside?  He will have to learn, the very hard way, that things which are put in the garbage do not come back, ever. 

Maybe we will tell him where we found it, after the garbage has already been taken out.  We will not show the pacifier to Shlomo, or dig it out.  Things that go in the garbage do not come out, and for everyone’s sake, he needs to know that.  However, I am counting on Shlomo to remember that he left the pacifier in the garbage.  I think, and hope, that the memory alone will do the job.  Perhaps this is why, when I asked Shlomo where his pacifier was, he did not get it.  Dirty diaper garbage is gross, and he knows that.  I certainly would not want to dig something out of it, which is why Yitzchak was the one to find the pacifier.  So, it makes sense that Shlomo did not retrieve his pacifier, all throughout the day.  (In fact, thinking about it, he just ignored my question, and when he was not ignoring it, he kept staring at the bathroom.)  But, Shlomo needs to know that I cannot read his mind, and if he doesn’t tell me, or show me, where he put it, I cannot help him.  Oops.

I am glad (or rather, hoping, because my favorite scarf is missing) that Shlomo is learning this lesson on something that I wanted to throw away, anyways.  I am glad that he is learning this lesson on something that is his, easily replaceable (if we chose to), and has no sentimental value.  May it be a one-time lesson that he never has to learn again.  May it be the hardest lesson Shlomo ever has to learn.  Amen.

Ditching the Pacifier – For Good

Earlier, I told the story of what had happened when the pacifier got forgotten.  Then I mentioned (I think) that the pacifier was only being used for naps and bedtime.  Well, that has changed.  Today.  This morning.  Just now.

Shlomo was playing (right after he woke up), and when I got up and looked at him, pacifier was gone.  I spent a lot of the time between then and now looking for Mr. Pacifier.  No luck.  I asked Shlomo where it was, because Shlomo usually knows where he put stuff, and where it landed, was thrown, or dropped.  No luck there, either.

Then I looked at the time.  It was 11:15.  We read a book, we checked his diaper, we looked for his pacifier again.  Then I held him, sang to him, and put him in his crib (at about 11:30).  As of right now, at 12:13, he is still awake.  He cried some, he screamed some, he tried to play with me some.  I held him some, I explained the situation to him, I walked out, he cried for a few minutes, and I walked back in.

To be fair, this is not the fault of only the pacifier.  It is also my fault – because I put him for a nap when he still had energy to play.  I knew what was coming, what would have happened if we had had the pacifier, and what probably would happen (and did) now that it is lost.  But I put him in his crib anyways, because napping from 12:30 until 3:30 just doesn’t work.  That’s what happened yesterday.  And even though Shlomo went to bed at bedtime (6:30/7:00), he was awake and talking to himself until about 10:00pm.  Which is not okay, and not good.  Which means he had a shorter night, and needs a longer nap, or an earlier nap.  So, that’s what I gave him.  Now, he is exhausted.  But he still doesn’t want to go to sleep.  He wants me to play with him.  So, I am letting him cry for a few minutes, and then I will go back in.  I’m not playing games.  If he wants help relaxing, fine.  If he wants to play, he can be by himself.

And the pacifier?  Well, they come two in a pack.  #1 tore a couple weeks ago.  #2, which he was using, tore a couple days ago, in a different, less problematic, spot, but we were still using it.  And now it’s lost.  I put #1 in the garbage already.  Since he lost #2, I don’t have it.  No matter what, I will not have it, at least not until he wakes up from his nap and we go out.  Maybe not until Yitzchak gets home at 5:30pm.  So, no pacifier.

And, in order to not waste this tantrum today, there are no more pacifiers.  If and when we find it, it will go in the garbage (because it is torn).  In the meantime, we can look forward to a few difficult nights, and a few [hopefully] less difficult naps.  So, wish us luck.  We will need it.

I just hope that Shlomo won’t substitute his fingers or his duck’s wing, because those habits are worse and longer-lasting than a pacifier.  Please, G-d, please.  Let the sucking thing end, he’s almost at the end of the stage, anyways.

Update: Right now it is 12:40pm.  I think Shlomo is just falling asleep.  You think I’ll manage to run some errands when he wakes up?