Manipulation, Part I

I like to think of myself as one of those women who can smell a con a mile away. I see right through salespeople who try to sell me on lousy deals, I see through guys who try to win me over with their "charm," and I don't take kindly to people who try cozy up to me in the hopes that they can get something out of me either professionally or personally.

In short, I don't like to be manipulated. Unfortunately it seems that for the past 18 months my son has been manipulating me on a daily basis.

Owen, all 3 1/2 years of him, has slept with a pacifier his whole life. I know, he's much too old for it, we should have trashed it by the time he was 2, it might screw up his teeth, etc. etc. We know all of that. But it's the last thing he asks for at night, it costs nothing to give it to him, and it makes him happy. So what's wrong with that?

But then last week, in a passing conversation Owen's teacher mentioned that he's a great napper at school. This shocked me because he never naps at home anymore, so I asked her if she gives him his pacifier each day. This shocked her, because apparently he hasn't used one at Kindercare since he started there. 18 months ago.

Huh? Seriously?

Admittedly, I am a major wimp when it comes to making big changes in the lives of my kids. They're happy the way things are, and if I had my way Jake would drink from a bottle and sleep in a crib his whole life, and Owen would bring his pacifier and a box of Pull Ups on his honeymoon. (OK, maybe that's a slight exaggeration, but you know what I mean.) Dave takes a much harder line on these things, so when change has to happen I insist that he comes home to assist with the fall out.

But the fact that he not only sleeps but is a "great sleeper" at school, with no pacifier needed, spurred us into action, and this weekend we took the plunge. Panicked, I made sure Dave got home early Friday night and was the one to put Owen to bed. I sat on the couch awaiting the tears and screams and anticipating a long night. But Dave just walked in, put him in bed, kissed him good-night, and walked out. No drama. In fact, Owen didn't even ask for it.

So tonight is Night 3, and Monday will be the first time I have to put him down myself. My guess is he'll ask me for it, but who knows. After two peaceful nights (someone please knock on wood here) I'm starting to think I was the one hooked on the pacifier, not him.