We noticed the other day that the current Pa was all chewed up and getting gross. On Friday morning (my birthday), he pulled the Pa out of his mouth and said "This Pa broken. Go in trash".
He walked downstairs and gave it to Norm and told him to throw it away. So Norm did.
In my very paranoid ways as first timer, I wanted to go buy him a new one just in case. But folks knocked some sense into me and I didn't... surely we were going to survive.
Bedtime could be a living hell, or it could be fine. It was just a matter of time to find out...
Bedtime came and as I was getting Benjamin's pajamas on, he asked for Monkey (which lived hand-in-hand with Pa...) and he asked for Pa. I reminded him that he had told us Pa was broken and had asked for it to be thrown out. He paused and did a fake cry. I quickly reminded him again and immediately without skipping a beat changed the subject. It's amazing how we develop super powers like that when we become a parent.
Nighttime has been going great... naptime has been tougher, today he didn't sleep. Which means that everyone's world became miserable come 5:30pm.
The ironic part of this story is that my mom has always told the story how when I was about 2 years old, I grabbed my pacie and threw it away in the bathroom trash - all on my own. And that was the end of the pacie for me. This is pretty much the only reason why I had a tiny hope that Benji wasn't going to go crazy asking for his Pa after he threw it away.
It is becoming more evident that we just may be raising the male version of me which ought to be fun.
Here's an appropriate picture in memory of Pa:
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