Toddler Attached to Pacifier

Our daughter has slept with a pacifier since her earliest days. At first the only one she liked was a big green one that looked more like a large plug stopping up a sink than a pacifier. The day I switched her over to a normal-looking one, she pulled her blanket up to her nose, sniffed to make sure it was hers, and went to sleep. All was well with the world.

There have been close calls at naptime when the "binky" couldn't be found. But at the last moment it turned up and crisis averted.

Until today.

Today I lifted my daughter into her crib for naptime. No binky. The following timeline shows the descent into chaos.

First Several Seconds

"Where's your binky?" I say with a sugar-coated smile. As she sips happily on her milk cup, I stick my hands between the crib railing and bumper pads.

After the First Minute

"Binky!" I now take to calling its name as if the plastic mouthpiece will speak and lead me to its location. I crawl on my hands and knees searching beneath her crib. A silent feeling of doom begins to spread through my chest. "Night-night," my daughter smiles as a drizzle of milk drips down her chin.

After Five Minutes

"Binky, where could you be?" I continue my conversation with the inanimate object. I go through every toy my children got into that morning. "Where?" my daughter says, tossing the empty milk cup over the side of the crib.

Fifteen Minutes Later

"Where is your pacifier?" I now start my third search of her room and move the crib out from the wall. Her wide eyes well up with water as she utters, "Where binky?" I convince myself that darn binky is hiding just to get back at me. 'I'll show that binky,' I catch myself thinking as I dig through the trash a second time.

Eighteen Minutes

I think, with a burst of optimism, that maybe she'll be okay to sleep without the pacifier for once. I explain to her, "Binky missing," lay her down, and close the door. I try to ignore her cries as I put my hand into every cupboard, crack and crevice in our house.

Twenty-Five Minutes

Desperation sets in. I decide to dig through the plastic bag of dirty diapers I threw away that morning BIKBM (Before I Knew Binky Missing.) Spy neighbor across the street giving me the evil eye as I sift through stinking, squishy diapers. Decide to take him off the list for Christmas cookies next year.

Thirty Minutes

In these days of communication technology, cannot reach husband. Who works for wireless cell phone company. Drifting downstairs are the faint sounds of my toddler chanting, "Binky!" and "Night-night!" between sobbing tears.

Forty-Two Minutes

Husband finally calls and directs me downstairs. After sticking my hand under the fourth shelving unit, where I was certain a poisonous spider moved to bite me, I find the binky under two stacked pillows on the futon.

Forty-Three Minutes Later

I run with childlike glee down the hall with the pacifier and burst into my daughter's room. "I found the binky!" I cheer with psychological abandon. With the pacifier finally in place, she lay down, pulled the blanket up to her nose to smell it, and went to sleep. After I closed the door, I made mental note to self: invest life savings in binky manufacturers.