In an effort to wean our two (almost three) year old Brennan from his beloved binky, the binky is now only allowed in Brennan's bed. The bink has seen better days. It is, honestly, pretty much a piece of repulsive plastic, so worn and icky the germs of each illness seem permanently affixed to its surface. (The bink is so gross that Chris and I once had an entire discussion on how much money it would take for either of us to put the binky in our mouth. After much debate, we decided $500 ought to do it. Two days later, a babysitter accidentally gave Griffin Brennan's binky. After washing Griffin's mouth out with soap, we decided we should add an extra $500 deposit to Griffin's college fund as payment for the binky slight.)
Today, Brennan woke up from nap in a haze of binky love. He begged for "just one more suck Momma," before heading downstairs. He sucked, looked at it lovingly and then left binky in his bed. As we walked out of his room, he looked longingly back at his bink and asked me, "Momma, who got me my binky?"
"Um, I think I did, Brenn."
"You did?" He asked with amazement.
"I think so, " I replied nodding my head.
Brennan grabbed onto my knees, hugged me as hard as he could and looked up at me with love shining in his eyes, "Thank you Momma, thank you. Thank you for my binky."
Yeah, this kid is so going to go off to college with a dilapidated, virus ridden, worn red binky hanging from his mouth.
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