Kick kick kick. Wake up! Wake up! It is 2 AM. I’m hungry! The lifeless body didn’t budge.
Kick kick kick. Swinging my arms around, I tried to pivot on my back towards Mommy lying next to me. At two-months-old, moving for any distance is a challenge.
Kick kick kick. Oh, I just kicked something. Most likely the hip.
Kick kick kick. As if jumping on a sideways trampoline, I pushed hard on the rib cage. She stirred.
A second later, fingers started feeling around my face. No dummy! I want milk, not a face massage. “Wahhh!”
The fingers found the pacifier buried in my neck and shoved it back in my mouth. I closed my eyes. Satisfied.
Suck suck suck. When is the milk coming?
Suck suck suck. You tricked me!
Kick kick kick. Time to feed me. The pacifier fell out of my mouth as I started wailing.
“Okay, okay, I’m up,” still half-asleep, Mommy got off the bed and turned on the light.
I only have to kick her 15 times tonight before getting a response. Perhaps Daddy will do better when he takes the next shift.
Having never been dependent on fake boobs as a newborn, I always pushed the pacifier out with my tongue – it was just not natural, you know? It doesn’t taste exceptionally good (nor bad), it doesn’t have milk – it doesn’t do anything! What’s the point? However, after a few weeks, I realized having something to suck on was not bad after all, and I became fond of it.
Sometimes, I even close my eyes, imagining guzzling down an unlimited stream of milk.
Fast forward two years later. The day started as usual – I showed the parents how to pull the pillows and covers off the bed when they woke up, but they are so stubborn! They kept picking them back up.
I jumped on the bed as usual, but this time, I tripped over a pillow and hit the footboard – headfirst.
Hot tears rolled down my cheeks as I screamed in pain. Blood flooded my mouth while Daddy inspected my chin, lips, and mouth. He mumbled about pacifiers and a loose front tooth, and then Mommy scurried away.
Oh, the horrors I had to bear that day.
Every sip of water sent shockwaves up my head. Even eating my favorite bowl of soft mac and cheese was painful. As if that wasn’t bad enough, all the pacifiers disappeared; it was as if they grew legs and fled the crime scene. I couldn’t find them in the kitchen cabinets and dishwasher, not even the secret stash underneath the crib.
They didn’t even let me suck goodbye.
All I did was jump on the bed – why did they take off? Have I not been punished enough already?
These heartless parents – they didn’t even try to help me look for them during bedtime. After three hours of outcry, they finally turned on one of my favorite cartoons at 1 AM to distract me – it worked. I was halfway through the second episode when I fell asleep snuggling in between the parents.
It took four days to accept my fate that I will never get to see my beloved pacifiers again.
I hope that they are having a good time, wherever they have gone.
A few days later, I overheard Daddy telling his friends about “taking away the pacifier cold turkey.” Did a cold turkey steal my pacifiers? Talk about the worst day of my life.
