...fly evil rejected binkies.
In the old days (at the ICN), Sharon and I and pretty much every other member of the Hallie Rose fan club marvelled at how much Hallie loved her binky. She was a veritable Maggie Simpson: she'd suck suck suck, and the binky would go in-out, in-out, in-out in the most hilarious, cartoon-like way.
Oh, how the times change. Now we can't do anything to get her to take her binky. Never mind that we invest hours and hours in color coordinating the binky and binky holder to her outfits (trust me, it's awful on Queen Street when the pink binky leash goes a-missing). Never mind that the kid has dozens of binkies, each in little containers or pouches so that they are clean and fresh. And never mind that I just bought her the cutest binky purse that we can loop to her jeans' belt loops for a seriously sophisticated baby fashion statement:
No, Hallie won't take her binky anymore. Why not, you might ask? Because binkies--like bottles--mean one thing and one thing only....SLEEP. And Hallie hates to sleep, particularly during the day when she might miss some sort of activity (like her moms pulling out their hair trying to get her to go to sleep and yawning from constant exhaustion). The other day, Sharon tried to get Hallie to nap by putting her into her crib to watch her mobile. She snuck the pacifier in her mouth, hoping that it might do the trick, seal the deal, and calm the child down into a brilliantly somniferous state that would last, say, anything over ten minutes. Sharon sat down in the glider to contemplate getting something done when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flying object sailing out of the crib and across the room.
It was the binky, of course.
So, as it turns out, Hallie wins (again). She may never take to taking her binky again, but at least she'll be ready for the Phillies' spring opener in a couple of weeks.