Pavarotti and The Silencer, a Soothing Tale

The Scream, Edvard MunchI had the noteworthy opportunity this morning to leave the Burglar at home with daddy while I did the school run. For those few minutes on the homeward ride when I knew for certain I was not going to be assaulted by the nerve-shattering screeches of an indignant toddler, I was in some kind of mommy heaven.

My kids have never been good passengers. All three of them, from birth until they were old enough to understand “if you yell once more I will take all your fluffy toys and put them in solitary”, were backseat yowlers. So the school run with the Burglar, round trip 30 mins, has to be planned ahead with the care of a Kardashian wedding. God help us if I forget the dummy or milk and perhaps a snack and water bottle. And yes, you heard me, a dummy (aka a ‘pacifier’ or ‘soother’), frowned upon by Good Mommies and dentists everywhere. I was once a Good Mommy, in fact I raised two children sans dummy. Third one popped out screaming and I said Enough with the screaming already, and went right out and got baby a dummy or ten. Best. Purchase. Ever.

Sure, I’ve fenced eyes with disapproving dental nurses. But they don’t know. They can’t understand the pure auditory assault of a toddler with the lungs of Pavarotti in the confines of a stationwagon.

So yes, we use a dummy. We call it The Silencer. And one day, the Burglar too will understand “fluffy toy solitary….” Until then, I’m working on her sign language.

 

PS. I optimistically use those dummies cleverly marketed as “orthodontic”. Have any other rebel mommies have tried these without their kids ending up with railway track mouths later on?

 

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