On the night of 2 Dec 2008, my beloved Tutu, as my pacifier is fondly nicknamed, decided to leave for greener pastures as I have outgrown it. At least, that's what Mummy told me, although I have this sneaking suspicion that she was too lazy to do a thorough search for Tutu, and so settled for option 2 - blame it all on Tutu.
Anyhow, this was not the first time Mummy had tried to wean me off the pacifier with the Tutu-has-run-away story - but it is certainly the first time I decided that, ok, I can do without Tutu for a while, and not kicked up too much of a fuss.
So anyhow, that was the first night. After that, i tried my luck continuously for about a week, but Mummy kept up with the same story, and eventually.... I GAVE UP. Oh yes, I decided that since Tutu was so heartless, I shall not want Tutu anymore. With that, Mummy, who was plagued by secret nightmare images of me with a Tutu stuck in my mouth at the age of 5 or 6, heaved a sigh of relief.
Mummy's only worry is that I somehow replaced Tutu with finger-biting. I told Mummy that if she's good, I will reward her by stopping. hahahahahahaha