Broken

Observe the remains of Mark's binky thrashing. Sunday was the fateful day.

I'm pretty sure it affected me and Mark to a much larger extent than Jackson. Honestly, Jackson thought they were funny looking when he first saw them. I, on the other hand, wanted to cry knowing I didn't have that crutch to rely on during future rough patches. Mark just felt guilty about having to do the dirty deed.

When Jackson asked for the binky Sunday night on his way to bed, I handed down one of the dilapidated pieces of plastic. He looked at it strangely, laughed, and popped it into his mouth. At which point it promptly fell out of his mouth. He asked for the other two, and after the same sequence of events, he put them on the little ottoman, and looked curiously at them. He kept cocking his head to the side like a confused little bird--trying to understand what had happened. Finally I asked him if they were broken, and he pointed and nodded his head saying, "bwokie." I felt so guilty, since he apparently had no idea that Mark and I had been planning the breaking for weeks.

That night for bed, he took all three of the broken binkies carefully to bed, and slept well for his standards.

We had our first difficult transition into bed today--Jackson was a bit upset about not having a binky incentive for his nap today, and was put into bed screaming. I suppose the broken binks have wore off their strange factor. Thankfully he fell asleep fine like every other nap this week.

I guess it was time to grow up son.