I knew that the time would come. The date was prophesized in Dr. Sears’s Baby Book, multiplying the number 2, for age of destruction, by 1.25 because that’s where I stopped reading. I actually planned to take the pacifier away tonight, but sometimes the rapture comes early, which is why it’s important to be prepared.
I told Kellen last night that it was his last night with his binkie. Perhaps you’ll be having the same conversation with your dog tomorrow night. I told him I had to give his binkies to the
angels babies. And with that, he threw his binky out of his mouth and tossed it across the room. He was actually going to make this easy. It was as though he had seen the same signs in the Dr. Sears book as I had. I gathered the binkies in my hand, and watched as they descended upward put them safely in the closet in the nursery.
And then the chaos began. A large earthquake seemed to shake my toddler’s room as he screamed out for me and his beloved binky. A volcano of cries followed and then the flood of tears that indicated he wasn’t faking this devastation.
I wanted to give him back the binky, steal it away from the fake babies I invented. But the rapture, binky or otherwise, doesn’t seem to work in reverse. I, the mommy-god, kept the binkies all to myself while my toddler was left to deal with what was left behind.
As it turns out, I am a merciful mommy, and I eventually brought Kellen into bed with us, though that only stopped the screaming. It was still another two hours before calm was restored to my room, and that was after I forewent Real Housewives of New York to try to get my son to sleep. Talk about sacrifice.
In the end the binky rapture was successful, even though Kellen did wake up screaming this morning, demanding the babies give “Kelwan’s binkies” back.
As it turns out, after the great binky rapture, the chaos subsided and the world kept turning. I expect the same can be said about Sunday.