Pacifiers

What is the obsession with pacifiers? Now judging by that first sentence you might think I am referring to my son. But no, it’s the adult obsession with pacifiers that I am most curious about.

This time, it was the old man at a gas station on I-74.

We, the Little Prince and I, are waiting in line to pay for our respective apple juice and diet soda, two of our other vices. And there is a bit of a wait because a different customer has had seizure and the ambulance has to be called (before the ambulance has a chance to get there the seized man jumps up and runs out the door like he has a warrant on him. Strange things happen when you travel, folks.) Anyway, we are in line, and the older man in front of us looks down at my son and says–

“You’re a bit old for that aren’t you?”

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No problem

So like most moms, one of my most consulted doctors is Dr. Google. There was the time my son had really aggressive allergies but Dr. Google said Whooping Cough, so we ran him to the ER. (Like I said, it was just really aggressive allergies.)  There was the other time that he had an angry skin rash, so I consulted Dr. Google, and it was determined that he had Meningitis, or maybe Hand Foot and Mouth. Or possibly, Mad cow? There seemed to be a lot of options. Most of them some form of cancer.  (It turned out to be Eczema.)

Needless to say, a large percentage of my mom life has been spent being frightened by internet research. Until now.

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