Oral Pacification and The Unbroken Habit

My oldest son is the victim of our parental inexperience.  With our subsequent children we had learned from our mistake.  But it cannot be denied - there are few things cuter than a baby or toddler who soothes him or herself with a soggy, wrinkled little thumb.  Of course by the time he was four or five (and entering the sick and diseased world of pre-school and kindergarten) it was far from cute.  Rather it had become a source of endless anxiety: frantic calls from frustrated teachers, late night trips to pharmacies for infant illness remedies and visions of second-mortgage requiring orthodontal bills.

Over the years we have tried a variety of medieval devices and dissuaders to break this cycle of anti-hygiene: foul-tasting digit dips and Oriental foot-binding inspired wraps and straps - all to no avail.  Eventually, we tired of the battle and left our hopes to the schoolyard - secretly hoping for a mild jungle gym teasing that would both disengage the shriveled and foul appendage and encourage a little 'hair on the chest' masculinity.  But alas, it seems not to be.  Despite the early stages of dental deformity, the boy has been overwhelmingly accepted and left to his anxious sucky-sucking in relative peace.

Today, after a brave first day of Tadpole swimming lessons (which consisted mostly of small children putting their faces in water and blowing real hard) we stopped for a celebratory treat on the short drive home: the much coveted 'donut' stop.  To drive home the message of my paternal pride we not only stopped but actually got out to stand in line so the actual donut choosing could be personalized.  A special event indeed.

As we stared as glazed as the delicacies before us, we were woken from our fat and sugar anticipatory stupor by a sudden "OH NO YOU DITN'T!!" uttered by the large black woman before us in line.  "You think you can just go sticking that thumb in your mouth where other people 'bout to eat? Nuh-uh, mister!"

I looked to my son - white as a sheet - and then to the woman who gave me a large smile and knowing wink.  "Thank you," I whispered to her as she turned to pay for her flavored iced coffee.