I knew this day would come but I never thought it would be like this. Today is the first day that my son believes that our house holds no more pacifiers. It's weird being on this site of the "passy", that's what we called it.
Until this day, my son needed a passy to sleep and when he was tired. Taking it out of his mouth was the last thing we did when we left the house and finding it was the first thing we did on arrival. As he ate his meal, it sat beside his plate always in his view. In the middle of the night, if he could not find it in his bed, he woke me up to find it or bring a new one. This small piece of plastic dictated his happiness and actions.
His old daycare did not allow pacifiers in the toddler room so he learned a year ago how to go without it during the day. At that time, I made it a rule that it would never leave the house. If he could go all day without it at daycare, then he could go without it on the weekends.
So the passy became more important since it was associated with home, comfort and mommy time since I was one of the rare people who saw him with it. So, it's only fitting that he saw me bring it to an end. Let me explain.
My son, like most toddlers, is going through phases of showing his frustration through hitting, especially hitting me. At home when he hits me, he gets put in timeout immediately. He has to say he is sorry and hug me to get out after several minutes in his room. Time out works for my son. It changes his behavior and gives him a safe place to calm down. Lately though, the hitting has been increasing. So I stepped up the game by taking away his passy.
This morning at breakfast, my son lost his mind. He threw a small fit at the table throwing forks. So, I gave him another fork stating that if he did that again, that I would throw a passy away in the trash. Seconds later, he looked at me in the face and threw the fork. Up I stood then plopped a passy in the trash in front of him. He looked shocked and stopped immediately. I was tested and proved that I meant what I said. His behavior changed immediately.
About an hour later, my son's barber texted me to see if we wanted to come in for a trim. Thanks to snow and sickness, everyone is behind and using the weekend to catch up. I said yes. When we arrived, his barber was cutting a man's hair. My son typically sits in my lap for a cut so that I can hold him. Last cut was his first time not crying during the cut. He seemed excited about his turn calling the trimmer a lawnmower.
Then it happened. my son lost his mind again. He was sitting in my lap sweet as pie and then he started to swing hitting me in the face multiple times. I placed him on the ground and he kept trying to reach my face laughing all the while. I picked him up asking him to stop trying to lecture a two year old. It continued. It escalated. When I put him in the car earlier, he thought it was funny that I forgot to ask him to leave his passy. I took it instantly once I realized. While holding him in my arms while trying to dodge the swings, I remembered this - that the passy was sitting in my cup holder in the front seat.
I grabbed my keys and in the rain I took him out to the car, grabbed the passy and walked to the trash can outside. I announced that the passy was going into the trash for hitting me. He watched and calmed down immediately. His barber, a father of a young son, saw what was happening and we talked about the importance of tough love, standing your ground and not letting your child dictate the situation.
At that time, it was his turn for a cut. As we walked to the chair, his barber grabbed my son insisting that he could sit in the chair by himself. My son cried, reached for me and squirmed but with some stern words, he became quiet and sat still for the majority of the cut. He did great. I was close by, less than one foot away all of the time.
My son had the snubs the entire way home - you know that noise that you make when you have been crying really hard and you are still trying to recover. He napped for two hours in his bed then woke up asking for his passy. Sorry baby, but remember you watched me throw it away in the trash when you would not stop hitting me. He didn't believe me. So he ran to the kitchen where I stored the extra, clean ones. I hid them. Gone.
Of course the day is young. He is still asking for his passy, but I say, sorry baby, remember I threw it away when you would not stop hitting me. I hope to make this stick. We are one nap down without passy so far. The rest of the day and the next few days will be a tough, but I plan to stand my ground. My son will learn that hitting is wrong and not a great way to get attention.