Calvin is trying to give up nighttime finger-sucking. It's so hard, but it's time.
Reason #1: He's almost 6 and soon will be losing teeth. Surely those new grown-up teeth would prefer not to jockey for position around a foreign object against his gums.
Reason #2: His poor left pointer finger is forlorn -- gnarled and calloused from years stewing in nighttime saliva.
Reason #3: It was a particularly harsh cold and flu season this past winter and I can't help but think that cutting down on the amount of time hands are in his mouth might reduce germ infiltration.
Reason #4: He's old enough to understand that he doesn't need his finger to fall asleep and he's capable of making the choice to stop when he's ready.
Reason #5: It's gross.
Calvin is motivated to give it up, for sure. We've set up a reward system for encouragement. Each night that he chooses to try not to suck we wrap a band-aid around his finger as a reminder and if he successfully makes it through the night without removing the band-aid to suck, he gets to pick a ticket out of the ticket jar.
So far he has enjoyed some terrific prizes: playing a board game, picking a movie, listening to a chapter of his favorite book, picking a tchotchke from the variety store.
But some nights he's just too tired or unmotivated to try, so he doesn't.
That's OK. I know from experience with his older sister and her thumb that he'll work it out in his own time.
The other night, as I tucked Calvin into bed I listened to him weigh the pros and cons for whether it would be a good night to try not sucking. He was articulating his personal struggle with self control -- a battle we all fight within ourselves from time to time.
"It's so hard," he said as I pushed the comforter up under his chin. "I think about how good it feels when I suck my finger and I really want to do it, but then I think about how good it feels in the morning when I wake up and I know I didn't suck it."
"That's why this is so hard," I said, trying to be reassuring. "It's you who has to make that choice. You're doing just fine."
I kissed him and turned out the light.
In the two mornings since that conversation he hasn't taken a ticket from his jar. Instead, an interesting shift has taken place. Calvin is sharing the ticket jar with his little brother, who is trying to wake up with a dry diaper each morning.
Maybe in a mentor-learning-from-the-protegee kind of way, Calvin will be inspired by Henry's success at achieving his own goal. I'm curious about how this will play out. I'll be sitting on the sidelines with pom-poms for this one, oh, and a fresh batch of tickets for the ticket jar, too.
Reason #1: He's almost 6 and soon will be losing teeth. Surely those new grown-up teeth would prefer not to jockey for position around a foreign object against his gums.
Reason #2: His poor left pointer finger is forlorn -- gnarled and calloused from years stewing in nighttime saliva.
Reason #3: It was a particularly harsh cold and flu season this past winter and I can't help but think that cutting down on the amount of time hands are in his mouth might reduce germ infiltration.
Reason #4: He's old enough to understand that he doesn't need his finger to fall asleep and he's capable of making the choice to stop when he's ready.
Reason #5: It's gross.
Calvin is motivated to give it up, for sure. We've set up a reward system for encouragement. Each night that he chooses to try not to suck we wrap a band-aid around his finger as a reminder and if he successfully makes it through the night without removing the band-aid to suck, he gets to pick a ticket out of the ticket jar.
So far he has enjoyed some terrific prizes: playing a board game, picking a movie, listening to a chapter of his favorite book, picking a tchotchke from the variety store.
But some nights he's just too tired or unmotivated to try, so he doesn't.
That's OK. I know from experience with his older sister and her thumb that he'll work it out in his own time.
The other night, as I tucked Calvin into bed I listened to him weigh the pros and cons for whether it would be a good night to try not sucking. He was articulating his personal struggle with self control -- a battle we all fight within ourselves from time to time.
"It's so hard," he said as I pushed the comforter up under his chin. "I think about how good it feels when I suck my finger and I really want to do it, but then I think about how good it feels in the morning when I wake up and I know I didn't suck it."
"That's why this is so hard," I said, trying to be reassuring. "It's you who has to make that choice. You're doing just fine."
I kissed him and turned out the light.
In the two mornings since that conversation he hasn't taken a ticket from his jar. Instead, an interesting shift has taken place. Calvin is sharing the ticket jar with his little brother, who is trying to wake up with a dry diaper each morning.
Maybe in a mentor-learning-from-the-protegee kind of way, Calvin will be inspired by Henry's success at achieving his own goal. I'm curious about how this will play out. I'll be sitting on the sidelines with pom-poms for this one, oh, and a fresh batch of tickets for the ticket jar, too.
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