I took it from him and immediately, unsentimentally claimed, "Garbage." But then I looked down at it as I descended the stairs to the kitchen. Light blue with a tiny picture of a yellow giraffe's face on it. I looked at it, contemplated getting rid of it and my heart physically felt like it might crack if I unceremoniously just threw it in the garbage.
I even found myself delicately sniffing it.
But I couldn't help myself. I'm a scent sensory kinda gal.
I realized that it's quite hurl inducing if you're not the Mother of the sweet boy who pacified himself with it for over 2 years.
(And kind of even if you are.)
But wait. When was the last time he used it?
"Honey when did Fin get rid of his zazzy?"
Zazzy. The word came back to me just as if I used the word yesterday. Zazzy. The made up word that my little Fin used for his soother.
Zazzy. Soother. I see no co-relation.
Then again if you knew my youngest you would simply nod your head, yes, that's about right.
In fact both my sons have the knack for randomness but that's neither here nor there at the moment.
"Oh gosh...like last year."
"Nooo. It was sometime this year. How come I don't know this? I didn't even blog about it!"
I didn't even blog about it you guys.
But I suppose I didn't blog about it because it wasn't made to be a big deal. We thought it would be. We clearly believed his addiction to be much worse than it really was. But one night we simply put it away in a one of John's valet drawers on the dresser and that was that.
And here was now.
I didn't throw it out. I simply left it on the counter for Finley to notice in the morning. I wasn't sure what would happen. I didn't have any real plan.
He came down this morning and noticed it right away.
"My zazzy! You found it!"
Okay, so we may have told him the reason we didn't give it to him that last night was because we lost it. I can't honestly recall.
"Daddy found it but you don't need this anymore do you? You're not a baby anymore are you?" I teased him.
Of-course he's still my baby though.
I smiled down at him and waited for his reply.
"I not a baby! I'm fwee!"
"I know right! Let's put it in the garbage okay?" He opened up the garbage as I declared, "Bye-bye babyhood!"
"Bye-bye babyhood!" he repeated with a giggle.
He gently placed that little piece of his babyhood very ceremoniously in the garbage. Without complaint, delay or protest.
And after that last sentence I now feel the not so quiet urgency to scrounge around amongst the wrappers, kleenex and chewed up gum to retrieve it once more.
Except this time I probably wouldn't sniff it.
|Ahhhh the sweetness.|