The Dummy Bermuda Triangle
So, what was I doing about five minutes before I sat down to write this post? I was on my hands and knees, in my daughters bedroom, trying to locate her “diddy” or as everyone else knows it, dummy.
Yes, yes, I know not everyone is a fan of the dummy, or soother, or whatever you want to call it. For us, it was something we decided to do as it was right for us. Yes, it is a bit annoying now and yes, I can’t wait to burn them all and laugh manically when the day comes I can prise them away from her. At the moment, she likes to have them as she goes to sleep.
Except today, when I couldn’t find the damn thing.
No matter where I looked, every corner, nook and cranny, no dummy was to be seen.
After a few minutes, I get desperate.
“Where’s the Diddy?” I asked my 12 month old.
“Diddy! Diddy!” She cried and pointed.
Now I must really be cracking up as I’m then going to the actual place where she’s pointed to, to look. Just in case she’s a genius and can tell me everything.
“Diddy?” She asks questioning, hopeful, as I scrabble around.
“No diddy” I sigh, and start my crawl around the room again.
I find a hair bobble, a receipt, some odd socks and an earring I lost 3 years ago.
I pat her down like I’m a security guard at an airport. No diddy.
I look behind toys and under the mattress of her cot. No diddy.
Where the hell is it? How can it be hard to find a dummy!
Is there some sort of Bermuda Triangle where all dummy’s go to? Seriously, we go through dummy’s quicker than I can eat a Milky Way. They must be somewhere.
I feel like Liam Neeson on a mission: “Dummy’s, I will find you, and when I do, I will sterilise you”
There are times when I can’t find a dummy, and then suddenly she has one in her mouth, one I haven’t seen probably for 6 months. Where was it? Will she tell me? No. Of course not. She’s a baby.
I found one in the garden the other day. All chewed up and savaged by the local wildlife. How it got into the garden, which I hadn’t stepped foot into over the winter, is still a mystery.
On this occasion, to commence nap time I had to go down stairs to find yet another dummy. Luckily I knew one was actually clean and waiting in the kitchen.
“Diddy!” She says, and rolls over for her nap. Happy at last.
I go downstairs to cry and write this post.