When she was younger, Oo and her bops were good buddies. And since using a bop was not affecting her speech development, I wasn't too concerned about breaking her of the habit. I even thought that she may give them up on her own. She loved/loves to talk and the bop kind of got in her way, so she weened herself down to using it just when she was sleepy or needed a little comfort.
However, once T was born, I grew tired of keeping track of two sets of bops—keeping them clean, making sure they weren't interchanged with the other kid's bops, and always knowing where the bops were at naptime or bedtime. So, shortly after Oo turned 3, we took her bops away.
Following a friend's advice, we gave Oo's bops to Santa's baby reindeer. On Christmas Eve, Oo lovingly put ALL of her bops on a plate next to the cookies for Santa and carrots for the reindeer. You see, we had been let in on a little secret: Santa leaves a special, extra present for children who give their bops to the baby reindeer. Great opportunity to break the bop habit, right? Wrong!! After we put Oo to bed, we had some final preparations for Santa's visit and we needed to wrap the presents from Mommy and Daddy. But instead, we were kept very busy consoling a sad little girl who was too upset to fall asleep.
This Christmas, T was just a couple weeks shy of turning 3—a good age, we think, for giving up bops. Needless to say, we did NOT give them to the baby reindeer. Taking a different approach, we checked a book out of the library called "Little Bunny's Pacifier Plan," in which a dentist gives a gentle (and far more sane) plan for breaking Little Bunny of his bop habit. Step 1: the bop never leaves the house. Step 2 (a week later): the bop stays in his bedroom. Step 3 (another week later): the bunny has to sit in the chair in his room to use his bop. Step 4: he gets tired of spending time in his chair and realizes there's more fun to be had without the bop. T liked to use his own bop to act out the story when I read it, and without any suggestion from me, he declared that he, too, had a bop plan. His plan mirrored that in the book.
We had five strong days of Step 1, before T started sneaking bops outside in his pockets. And often, while driving merrily along in our car, I would suddenly tune in to the "slurk, slurk" sound of him sucking on his bop in the back seat. It looked like I would have to renew the book with the library for three more weeks, and start over with Step 1.
Or... (insert angel choir singing an epiphanous "Aaaaaaaaa" here)... we could just donate the bops to the Easter Bunny's babies. Yes! Adrian and I decided that's what we'd do. After all, prepping the house for the Easter Bunny isn't nearly as involved as getting ready for Santa.
After plans were set with the Easter Bunny, I excitedly told T about the special gift the Easter Bunny gives to children who give their bops to the baby bunnies. And thanks to the illustrations in "Little Bunny's Pacifier Plan," it was really easy for T to visualize baby bunnies sucking on bops.
On Friday night, we did a test-run. Fridays are Movie Night, so it was late (9:15) before the kids were going to bed. It was Adrian's turn to rock T and read him a bedtime story. As always, T asked for his bop, but Adrian said he didn't know where T's bop was. T responded, "I just want to go nigh-night." He was too tired to put up a fuss, and he slept peacefully through the night.
On Saturday night, we had a tiny green pail that we filled with Easter grass. We gave T his four bops, said how proud we were of him, and told him to put his bops in the pail for the Easter Bunny. We also reminded T of the special present that the Easter Bunny gives to kids who give bops to the baby bunnies. T stood there and hesitated. He put one bop in his mouth, clutched a bop in each hand, and rolled the fourth bop around on the floor with his bare toes. My heart sank a little, and I felt tears well up.
But he did it! He made it through another night without a bop, and he is now completely bop-free. With the help of Easter candy and his thank-you present from the Easter Bunny, T didn't miss his bop very often on Sunday, but when he did, he'd melt into a sad sack of potatoes. Here is a picture of T checking out the rocket ship that the Easter Bunny left for him:
Today was much harder for the little guy. Mondays, to begin with, are always hard around here—the kids miss Adrian terribly when he heads back into the weekday grind. T asked many, many times for his bop today. He searched in all the usual places for a bop: under his bed, in my pocket, behind the bananas on the kitchen counter. When I reminded him that the baby bunnies now had the bops, he'd slump down to the floor. I told him I was proud of him, and I gave him lots of extra hugs and back rubs. Usually that helped matters, but there were a couple times where he clenched his fists, glared at me with angry eyes, and let go with a fierce roar. But just as quickly as he lost his cool, he composed himself and told me, "I yelled at you. I'm sorry, Mom."
And I felt tears well up.
Children today are expected to live 10 years LESS than their parents.
