What You’ll Need:

• 1 child with a binky habit (God help you with more than 1 because I don’t know if I can)
• 1 pin
• 1 pair of scissors
• 1 boring week when sleep can be forfeited and your child is not dealing with any other major changes
• Patience
• Noise-cancelling headphones (optional)

Before You Get Started:

• Gather all binkies. I hear of kids that have just one binky, but Lilly had tons. They gathered in the car, in my bag, in the cabinets, under the crib, in the toybox. These all need to be retrieved. The last thing you want 3 days into the process is for your little angel to uncover a perfectly good binky to replace the deformities you’re offering.
• Decide on a start date with all caregivers. Obvious, right? But I can’t tell you how many times Elliott and I planned to do this and then didn’t because we just said “this weekend” and not “first thing Saturday.”

The Ground Rules:

• Do not deny the binky.
• Do not react to your child’s dissatisfaction with the “new” binky.
• If you child asks for another binky, give him/her another similarly mutilated binky.

Getting On With It Already:

Day 1: The night before you plan to start debinkification use your pin to puncture the tip of the binky. Test it to make sure there are enough holes of sufficient size to pull air through the binky when sucked. Do this and all other binky mutilation to all binkies your child will encounter and do it out of your child’s sight.

Days 2-3: Cut the tip off the binky, so it looks like this:

This is when you’ll want to pull out those noise-cancelling headphones if you’ve exercised that option. If not, turn that TV up and step away from the baby monitor. Up until now the goal has been to interfere with the suckling action involved with using a binky, thus making the binky less soothing for the child and, ultimately, less appealing to the child. At this point, the mutilation will begin interfering with the child’s ability to keep the binky in his/her mouth, thus also becoming a source of frustration.

Day 4: Cut a little more off the top of the binky, so it looks like this:

Day 5: Make vertical cuts around the open edge of the binky, so it looks like this:

Days 6 and continuing: Continue to cut the binky a little more each day, alternating between horizontal and vertical cuts until the child no longer wants the binky. So in the final stages it’ll look like this:

Or even this:

***The one very important caveat to each of these steps is that a binky should NEVER be given to a child if the cuts made create a choking hazard. Be especially cautious of this if your child likes to bite or chew on the binky. You know this. I know you do. But I am a former litigator . . . ***

Tips:

• Hide all binkies other than the one your child is focused on at that moment. The idea is to let your child think that everything is business as usual — request a binky, get a binky — but you and I both know it is not. The ultimate goal is to eliminate requests for binkies and leaving binkies around will only be a reminder.
• Be flexible. Of course, this is Rule #1 for all things parenting. In this case, I think it is good to be flexible about when and how much you cut the binky each day. In Lilly’s case, we never got past cutting the tip off. That one step was so devastating to her binky attachment that she stopped requesting it before I could give her a binky with the additional cuts. But my nephew needed to get to the point of being incapable of keeping it in his mouth. Both techniques worked, you just have to see the reaction you get and go from there.
• Push boundaries. I’m going to contradict myself a bit here, but I warned you to be flexible! Sometimes I wonder if I was just too soft to push myself and Lilly far enough. When Lilly stopped regularly requesting the binky after the first cut, it was easiest to just distract her on the rare occasion when she asked for it. But I do wonder if she would be sleeping better now if I had taken it a step or two farther. Then maybe she would have gotten so frustrated with the binky that she wouldn’t even long for it. I’m not sure. Just something to keep in mind.
• Stay strong. I’ll be honest: Lilly’s sleep, post-binky, is not what it was. Not a day has gone by since we started (and finished) this process that I haven’t briefly considered just going back to the ease of popping a binky in her mouth and righting the world — or at least sleep-times. But wavering at any point in the process will only make the inevitable withdrawal from the binky worse for all parties involved.

Well, I hope this is helpful to someone somewhere. I would love to hear stories of successes and even failures. So please share your experiences in the comments if you give it a whirl!

Lilly still has binkies-on-the-brain. She points out every binky she sees when we’re out and about. (They’ve been banished from any visible locations at home.) She dabbles a bit in finger-sucking. During playtime every baby needs a binky.  And last night she asked Elliott to check under her crib to see if there were any more binkies left there. She is only human.

But Lilly has matured a bit through this process. Since mastering binky-free toddlerhood, she has become more open to the reasoning that “only babies use binkies” and Lilly is a “big girl.” Thus she is more apt to view herself as a big girl now, which has been helpful in preparing her for other feats like potty training and starting preschool. But, at times, she is not above a little tweaking of logic to get that one more binky fix that she craves.

Like the other day, when she was getting a bit sleepy in front of an episode of Dinosaur Train — her new favorite show. (Thank God we’re off The Wiggles!) She looked over and quietly said, “binky.” I said, “I know you miss the binky, Lil, but big girls don’t use binkies, only babies use binkies.” She hesitantly nodded in agreement, but still asked again for a binky. I thought maybe I should help her follow this logical path:

“Well, are you a baby?”

“No.”

“You’re a big girl, right?”

“No.”

“You’re not? Well, then what are you?”

“Lilly.”

I admit part of me was very proud of her for refusing to be labeled and wanted to cheer: “Yeah! Nobody puts baby – er, I mean Lilly –  in the corner!” Alas, I kept my composure and redirected her attention to the TV. Subject successfully dropped.

The downside to all this is that sleep times have become a whole new animal without the aid of binkies. Lilly dreads sleep now and her sleep times bear that out. Previously her naps ran 2.5 to 3 hours. Since debinkification naps have varied from 30 minutes to 2 hours with the occasional – gasp! – no nap days. I have to admit that this has been rough on me and at least daily I wonder if we really needed to do this now and/or whether it would be too psychologically disturbing if I suddenly started giving Lilly the binky again just so she would sleep. Obviously, in both cases the answer is yes. But there’s no harm in dreaming, right?

For better or worse, and it is mostly better, Lilly is off the binky. Moreover, I can now verify that the Mutilate and Disappoint Method does work. So for those of you with your own little Maggie Simpson at home, detailed instructions will be forthcoming.

* * * * *

Next Up: Debinkification Deconstructed

Lilly got up the next day and she still wasn’t interested in a binky. Took her nap. No sweat.

Man, I’m good, I thought. Yes, I lost some sleep and there were some cranky moments for all of us. But here we are, Day 6, and Lilly is seemingly off the binky. I think as long as we get through a few more days without mentioning the binky, we’re probably in good shape.

Bedtime on Day 6 was going as expected. Bath, pajamas, books, no mention of the binky when Lilly went into the crib. Lilly laid down with her blanket and sheep, and requested a performance of “Doe a Deer.” We were just about at the finish line and I noticed that her crib wasn’t exactly parallel to the wall. So as I finished up my lullabies, I gave the crib a little wiggle to move it back into place and - kaching!  - unlodged binkies fell to the floor, ringing out like a baby-centric slot machine. Lilly sat bolt upright, smiled and exclaimed, “Binkies!”

Uggggh! Remember my plan to stealthily extract the binkies without reminding Lilly of their existence? Yeah, real stealthy. I totally blew it. How Stupid! What a disaster. One short fit of OCD and I set us back to binkies at bedtime. Binkies – two.

I checked on her after she fell asleep, hoping that maybe she had thrown the binkies overboard like the night before, but she had, indeed, fallen asleep with the binky (just one, thank god) in her mouth. By the time I went in to get her in the morning, one had fallen (most likely) onto the floor and the other was caught up in the blanket. I made a mental note of where they were and got Lilly out of the room as quickly as possible. Before naptime, I snuck up to her room and removed temptation. She went down for nap without a binky. And I learned an important lesson.

We’re now on Day 10. Lilly has only asked for the binky once since Casino Night. That was the night of Day 7, when my in-laws were babysitting. I’m chalking it up to her needing a little extra comfort. She had just been diagnosed with bilateral ear infections that morning, was clearly experiencing discomfort and Mom and Dad were out. I mean, give a girl a break, right?

But, just in case, I’m cutting the binky down one more time.

* * * * *

Next Up: Life After Binkies

Tantrum Threat Level: LOW. Lilly’s passion for the binky is waning.

Progress: Yes! Yes! Yes! We have definitely turned a corner. Lilly is a free woman now, no longer kept awake by her memories of binkies past.

Analysis: Bedtime on Day 5 was epic. Lilly was in a good, playful mood. We went through our routine as usual. In the old days, it was not unusual for Lilly to request a binky before she was even out of her bath. So it was a minor victory when she waited until she was in her crib and had exhausted all other methods of procrastination. But then, it happened.

Lilly asked for her orange binky. I reminded her that she doesn’t like it and asked if she still wants it. She did, so I complied. As usual, she took one look and dropped her hand, defeated.

I don’t like it. Blue one.

We’re down to two binkies: orange and blue. I gave her blue. She threw it to the end of the crib.

I don’t like it!

Here we go again, I thought. Lilly sat up, grabbed the blue binky and threw it to the end of the crib again. She leaned forward, grabbed it again and started to drop it into the sliver of space between the crib and wall.

Don’t do it, Lilly. I won’t get it.

Kerplunk!

Then she grabbed the orange one, gave me a defiant look and moved toward the side of the crib. I warned her:

Lilly, I won’t get it and then you won’t have any binky.

Kerplunk!

Well, now you don’t have a binky.

She looked at me and laid down. I walked out of the room. And then do you know what happened? Nothing! She went to sleep! How cool is that?

Now, it’s possible that when I left the room, Lilly immediately began to panic and started fashioning a binky-saving device from her blanket and stuffed sheep, but I don’t think so. And even if that was the case, it was done quietly and ultimately unsuccessfully. The binkies are still under the bed waiting for a time when I can stealthily extract them without reminding Lilly of their existence.

Given the obvious political parallel, I hesitate to announce, “Mission Accomplished!” because there is still the potential for relapse. But we’re close. We’re very, very close.

* * * * *

Next Up: Mission Accomplished . . . Mostly

The hardest adjustment is, as I expected, going to sleep with her mutilated binky. But even that is improving. Rather than tantrums and binky-launchings, Lilly now seems to be trying to talk her way through the problem.

With each request for the binky, she inspects the binky, sees the hole and confidently says, “Baby close it.” She pinches it for a few seconds, then calmly says, “Mommy close it.” I tell her I can’t. She studies it some more and says, “I don’t like it.” I tell her I know. Then she requests a different color binky and the process repeats.

Days 3 and 4 were a bit tough. Lilly’s runny nose evolved into a full-blown cold with fever. This might actually be a good thing since she can only breathe through her mouth and thus can’t keep a binky in her mouth long anyway. But it also means she is craving all her comfort items.

Naps and bedtimes, which are the only times binky is a point of contention anymore, have gone like this:

First there’s the procrastination. As bedtime or naptime approachs, she wants milk, juice, snack, a book, a wagon ride, etc. When I finally carry her upstairs, she’s crying and begging to go to “mommy’s bed” instead. For better or worse, I have indulged this request a bit. I don’t let her sleep there, but we’ll read books and just wind things down in my bed before moving to her room. This seems to be helping, but I’ll probably regret it in time.

Fully embracing the nickname she has earned among our friends, the Zen Master kicked off her counter-offensive with her Day 3 Nap. Tantrums are just not her style. Instead, she tried reverse psychology.  After the ritual requests to close it and fix it, and the declaration that she doesn’t like her binkies, Lilly let me lay her in the crib with no major objections. Then, as I was about to walk out, calmly placed both binkies in her mouth. You give me half a binky, I’ll take two, thank you very much!

Bedtime on Day 3 was business as usual. Books, blanket, two lambs, two binkies.

Day 4 all hell broke loose. Again. But I think her fever was more to blame than binky withdrawal, although it certainly didn’t help. At naptime she was very upset. That fever kind of cry when even your skin hurts and you just want to feel better. I felt like Mommy Dearest to deny her a soothing binky in this state, but I did.  Once again she took the mutilated binky and cried, “I don’t like it. I don’t like it.” I gave her some ibuprofen (to bring down the fever, not to drug her) and put on some Coldplay to distract her and left. She cried for a few more minutes then went to sleep.

That night the fever was even higher and she’d been a trouper at a family party where she had to tolerate numerous “strangers” tickling her, talking to her and otherwise getting chummy and she held it together wonderfully most of the time. So when she just lost it and looked awful with feverish fatigue and crankiness, we could not deny her anything — except a whole binky. I let her fall asleep on me, in my bed, with two binkies. I’m an Evil Binky Torturer, but I’m still a mom for christ’s sake.

* * * * *

Next Up: Breakthrough! (Day 5)

Day 2 ended with our first night since Lilly realized that her binky had been vandalized and, in all honesty, it went better than expected. As I noted on the evening of Day 2, bedtime didn’t start out well. Lilly screamed for a good two hours before finally allowing Dad to comfort her enough to fall asleep around 9:30. She was up at 10:30, back down with comforting from Mom at 11. Then . . . radio silence! At least for a few hours. Amazingly, she made it through the rest of the night without comforting from us, but that’s not to say she was sleeping soundly. Or that I was either.

The nice thing about this technique is that, although it is difficult for Lilly to be disappointed and frustrated with her heretofore reliable old friend, Binky, she doesn’t project any of that frustration onto me because she doesn’t realize I am the mastermind behind her binky’s undoing. It’s quite sad actually. I — surprise, surprise — am racked with guilt about it. Here I am sympathizing with her that “these darn binkies are open for some reason and I just don’t know how to fix them, Sweetie.” All the while knowing that I, Evil Binky Torturer, am the source of their deformity.

So here’s what I learned during our first night of Operation De-Binkification. If you are the kind of person  – read: me — who thinks that the best way to work through guilt is to subject yourself to some similar discomfort — don’t do it — such as listening closely to a baby monitor all night  – seriously, do not do it — so that you can hear and sympathize with each and every instance of frustration when your baby misses her old binky, well, I just can’t say this strongly enough: JUST DON’T DO IT.

If I had just kept the monitor off, as I had been for weeks before we started this Operation, I would have most likely slept through Lilly’s minor stirrings through the night. I would have woken up and thought, “You know, bedtime started out pretty rough, but that wasn’t so bad!”  But no. I glued myself to the monitor and spent the night fighting back tears each time I heard Lilly’s tired and frustrated “noooo” and the binky hit the mattress, followed by some whimpering. Hers, not mine. Mostly.

The real zinger is that Lilly was probably only awake for a total of maybe 20 minutes over the course of the night (once she finally fell asleep). I, on the other hand, slept for maybe 20 minutes because each time she whimpered and went back to sleep, I stayed up for another hour or so wondering if it would really be so bad if she was the only teenager who sleeps with a binky.

So I guess the take-away on Day 3 is that the technique seems to be working. Lilly is slowly detaching from her binky. Sure, I am slowly detaching from reality also, but it’s a small price to pay to keep the orthodontist away.

* * * * *

Next Up: Still in the Trenches (Day 4)