Little H had her first dentist appointment about a month ago.  I know it's not essential at her age, but I thought it would be a good idea to get her acquainted with the ordeal.  Plus Buster didn't cost as much as we thought he would so we still have quite a bit left over in the Health Savings Account.  Unnecessary medical procedures, here we come!  (Do you think a tummy tuck would be an eligible expense?)

She was so well-behaved at the dentist's.  It didn't hurt that they had gum-flavored cleaner and a T.V. in the ceiling.  Brilliant!  Where were these things when I was a kid?  I had nothing to watch but the hair up my dentist's nose.  (Love ya, Larry.  )  I was so happy with the way things were going.  I had convinced myself we were going to get out of there without the dreaded question until...

"Does she suck her thumb?"
"Um, no."  I knew what she was getting at so I decided to just confess  "But she does have a pacifier."
At this point, Heather the Hygienist sucks in her breaths and debates in her mind about calling Child Services.  "Well, it seems to be shaping the roof of her mouth...etc., etc."
I start zoning out and just nodding.  Inside my head I start out berating myself and then just end up blaming Little H because she's such a difficult child.  What else could I do?  It was all going so well up until now.
Then the dentist comes in and I hear more of the same.  "Shaping her mouth...teeth will grow in abnormal...expensive orthodontia later on, etc., etc."  I should make the point that they were both actually very nice, but when I'm beating myself up at the same time, I don't hear it that way.
At one point he tells me that his wife read somewhere the ideal time to take the pacifier away is between eight and twelve months and looks at Buster for emphasis for me to not screw this kid up, too.

Apparently, though, we're not to late to right our wrongs.  She's still young enough that the damage will correct itself.  The most important piece of information I gleaned is the part about expensive orthodontia.  As we went to the car after the appointment, I told Little H that the dentist said she needed to stop using her pacifier.  She then informed me that the dentist said she could use it for five more weeks.  I'm not sure when this invisible conversation happened, but she was adamant, and we argued about it for the next half hour.

Of course Dan is lucky enough to be out of town the week we quit cold turkey, but we faired pretty well.  We glittered up her pacifier and the "Paci Fairy" came and exchanged it for a new tricycle (thanks for putting it together, Dad).  A month later, I can tell you, she's done very well and only complained a handful of times—in the beginning she would tell me that her mouth was cold so she needed her pacifier.  Silly, kid. 

It turns out that stupid thing was as much a crutch for me as it was for her.  As fate would have it, Buster doesn't care much for pacifiers, but he does like to suck his thumb.  I'm not sure what kind of fairy you get to fix that one.