Ooooooh, the pacifier. Such a love/hate relationship we’ve had over the years. There are some who swear their loyalty to this beloved tool, some who warn against them and people who land somewhere in the middle. We drink the paci Kool-Aid over here at the Confetti house. Colin started his life as a pacifier addict. At some point in his eighth month, we restricted pacifier use exclusively to nights, naps and super-long road trips. It only took a couple days to fall into that new normal. Which stuck. For YEARS.

Two years later, when C was two years and eight months old, he became a big brother. My husband and I feared disrupting the pacifier equilibrium before welcoming a new baby, who would more than likely use a pacifier too. And then we dealt with the adjustment to being a new big brother. And then we dealt with crib jumping and the transition to a bed. And then we moved. And started a new school. To say that the past year has been an eventful one for my little big boy would be an understatement. His life has been turned upside-down, and the comfort of the pacifier has been a constant. He just loved that friggin thing, and the thought of one more change, one more upheaval in his life, just broke my heart.

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And then he chipped his tooth. Majorly, on a ride at a local fair. Cue an unscheduled visit to the dentist. (I bet you can guess where this is going.)

At Colin’s three year visit, the dentist we saw suggested we drop the pacifier use before our next scheduled visit. When we came in three months later for chipped-tooth-gate, her colleague told me I should take it that night, that weekend at the latest. His bite wasn’t fully closing, and the longer we waited, the higher the likelihood we’d be dealing with increased orthodontic intervention down the road. Mr. Confetti had already been pushing (…for months) that we take away the pacifier, so this was just the push I needed to get on board.

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We had already planted the idea after Colin’s three year dentist visit that we would soon have to say good-bye to the paci (or as C calls it, his “pepi”). After the chipped tooth fiasco, we had the dentist tell C that the Pepi Fairy would be visiting very soon.

For two days, we gave Colin ample warning that over the weekend, the Pepi Fairy was coming. We made a plan to put all of his pepis in a box and leave it outside his door, and while he slept, she would take the pacifiers to kids who didn’t have any and in return, he would get a super special present when he woke up. We hyped this up a lot. A LOT. And cancelled any non-essential plans for the weekend. And we braced ourselves for what could be a rough week ahead.

On Friday night, we boxed up the pacifiers (of course, after I captured a few last photos of C with his favorite paci) and left them outside his door. We went through our normal bedtime routine, albeit at a more relaxed pace, and braced ourselves for the tears. As we sang our bedtime song, they came. And it was heartbreaking  And we hugged him tightly and reminded him that he was a big boy and was so brave. We finished the song, and we left the room. I sat in the hall outside his door while his cries eventually turned to whimpers and he fell asleep.

The next morning, Colin woke up earlier than usual, and, without a pacifier acting as a happy mute button, loudly chatted to himself while he waited for his green light to turn on. At 6:45 am, Mr. C and I both came in and loudly exclaimed that we saw some awesome package all wrapped up in the hall. The Pepi Fairy had noticed that Colin was newly obsessed with Paw Patrol, and she decorated his doorway with pup-themed decor and delivered a TON of Paw Patrol fun. The look-out, the pups, some of their vehicles. Toddler. Mind. Blown.

The morning passed with ample distraction and fun with non-stop Paw Patrol play, and at nap time, we braced ourselves for no nap. I think because Colin didn’t sleep particularly well, he basically passed out at nap time without much protest. And that night, at bedtime, he asked if he could bring a Paw Patrol pup with him to bed to help him be brave. You betcha.

Overall, my worst fears were unfounded. I feared he would go weeks and weeks without a good night of sleep and likely never nap again. I’m not gonna lie – we had a couple tough weeks. For a few days after that first night of tears, we saw more tears.  And it was sad. And I wanted to cry with him. But I stayed strong, and after 3-4 days, there were no more tears. After two weeks, his sleep was mostly back to where it was. He had already been flirting with the disappearing nap, and he continues to do so, but I think that can be attributed as much to age (3.5!) as it can be attributed to the lack of a pacifier. We are somewhere around 50/50, and I’m hoping to maintain that for a while. I worried that his need to suck was still strong enough that he’d replace the pacifier with a thumb or finger, but thankfully we haven’t seen that at all. What I also feared was resentment toward his little brother who still uses his own pacifiers, but none of that came to fruition.

What I did learn is that it is absolutely true when they say that it’s much easier to take a pacifier away from a six month old or one year old than it is an older child. I had hoped that we could ride the paci wave until Colin felt ready to drop the habit on his own, but that didn’t come to pass. So with Asher, who is now almost 11 months, Mr. Confetti and I are already discussing our plans to take away the pacifier just after his first birthday. Yes, it may be tough dealing with a week or two of disrupted sleep, but in the long run, I expect it will be significantly less painful that if we wait.

Anyone else struggle with when to take away the paci?  How did you do it?  How did it go?