A Binky for Donald Duck

bekah Parenting Leave a Comment

We’re going on about 2 hours now; the endless crying and snotty sobbing, the getting out of bed, the wails for Mamaaaaaaa!! echoing throughout what my whole being senses as the entire neighborhood.

Remember this post, Retraced Steps? The one where we took Ty’s binky/pacifier/chupie/whatever you want to call the plastic baby crack? After a week of sleep deprived everyone, Bry and I acknowledged that sometimes it’s not about being right, it’s about timing for all parties included. We gave Ty his binky back for naps and bedtime to ensure all four people in our household slept again until a future date. Lesson learned.

Until last night.


Welcome to Mission No Binky: Take 2. Let me tell you… it’s been hell, people. I’m exhausted, and impatient, and Bryan may come home to see his wife and two sons holding each other while we all suck our thumbs on the couch!

Everything was going smoothly. After his pediatrician and dentist both told Ty it was time to give up his binky and asked, You think you can do that, Ty? as I stood in the background winking and mouthing thank you at the scared medical specialists, our youngest was on board. Let’s do this!

The lucky recipient? I’m gonna give my binky to Donald Duck, Ty stated matter-of-factly. Which makes perfect sense considering our strong-willed son has never before uttered that character’s name aloud. Lucky Donald- to be gifted a drooly, teeth-marked pacifier when he probably can’t even physically shove it in his bill!

Carefully colored envelope with a hand-written note: Donald, please take care of my binky. Love Ty, the gift was sealed and to the Disney store our family went to Ahem, would you please see to it that Donald gets this envelope?

This is where I make my plug for Robin, the saint at the South Coast Plaza Disney Store. Her sweet spirit no doubt rivals that of Jesus’ own mother, Mary, as the rockstar employee gushed and high-fived our wide-eyed Ty at his noble and heroically brave gift.


**Cue celebratory music and lights!**

Out came a certificate, stickers, a Donald duck coloring page, and a flag! Mickey slap-bracelet watch {don’t be jealous!} for the big brother, and to top it off- a special song where they brought Ty up front and told the entire store he was giving his binky to Donald Duck! Too much? Nonsense! Fame arrived to the Pogue clan- I mean, his name was on the wall, friends! Clutching his Nemo figurines, a reward for his generosity, Ty walked out of the Disney store -chest puffed, ready to take on the world.






Until reality kicked in at bedtime. After crying for 30 minutes for his bee-bee… (sob, sob… sniffle).. bee bee…. the light clicked on that that darn duck had it, so the I don’t want to go bed scream began. I (sob) don’t (sob) want to (sob, sob, sob, followed by an awesome snot bubble) go (sob) to (sob, sob) bed!!!!!

I rubbed his back. I smoothed his hair. I sang Jesus Loves Me and got him a nineteenth cup of water {who’s counting?}

As his voice skyrocketed, then lowered shaky and exhausted, I bit my lip from crying along, and met his tears with, I know, Bubba. I know.

Lay (sob) with (sob, sob)… me, he plead. Scratching his now drenched body, I hummed in attempt to offer comfort.

And then he got mean.

Don’t lay by me! He yelled. Don’t. (waaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiillllllllll) Lay. By. Me! What would you do in that moment? You know what I felt like saying? Well, fine, I’m leaving. Deal with it! Cry-baby! Real mature mom moment, I know!

But I couldn’t ‘cuz every time I wanted to leave, I remembered God’s strong voice from months earlier when He’d told me this: Ty is the kid who is going to go against you. He’s going to battle, and push every.single. buttons to see how much you’ll put up with. Love him, love him, love him. Bry and I are to remind him that there is nothing he can do or say that will change our love for him. Period.

My head on his pillow, watching his fretful frame attempt sleep, I saw a hint of what may come. He tried to kick me away and push my head off, all the while yelling through racking sobs- GET OUT OF MY BED, MAMA! With every push I met his hands, his twisting back, his tear-stained face. I love you Ty. I love you Ty. I love you Ty. It broke me to the core. This was one battle that he could not win.

GET OUT OF MY ROOM! He sobbed. Oh, I wanted to. March out, was more like it, and slam the door behind me. Parent friends, please nod your head that you’ve been here before, yes?

Just when his tuckered out spirit could cry no more, he turned into me and clutched my arms, his knees bent against my middle, my chin resting on top of his wet, curly head. Our side-by-side son and mama silhouette resembled a lop-sided figure eight. Ty’s eyes closed, his mouth parted, and he caved and melted into my embrace.

I laid there for probably thirty minutes, holding our youngest son, praying for him and thanking God that I hadn’t completely lost my cool and stomped out of his room. His love had poured into me and won! Love had won! Ty had yelled and pushed and kicked and screamed, and sure it’s just a dumb binky, and one day we’ll look back and laugh. We’ll forget that Bryan and I will slap one another’s bums in the middle of the night when Ty cries out for his comfort, Tag, your turn. We’ll forget deep breaths and lack of sleep but we won’t forget the cornerstone night when he pushed every button possible and we chose love in return.

And for the nights we don’t, well… that’s what the Therapy Jar is for.

Cheers to parents all over the globe! Whether it’s binkies or potty-training, or selfish days or tantrums, may we always choose to love these crazy chilluns regardless of their behavior!



Tell me and I forget, teach me and I may remember, involve me and I learn. ~ Benjamin Franklin


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