Garon Wade has one word for you. Pacifiers.
One word. Pacifiers.
“WHERE THE HELL ARE ALL THE PACIFIERS??” (said by me at least every 2 days)
I’m telling you, this one thing will be the emotional and financial death of me. Am I the only Gay Dad that cannot keep my shit together long enough to know where just one of our son’s tens of pacifiers are? I am convinced he just chucks them in the street repeatedly, without my knowledge, on the way to the park. It’s important to note that we live 3 blocks away from a super Target, where I am a frequent purchaser of 2-pack boxes of these suckers. And yet, when its time to A) run out the door or B) press the mute button on endless crying, I cannot for the life of me find a single one.
Not to mention they aren’t exactly cheap when you continually lose them and then are purchasing them daily while the cashier in Aisle 9 smiles politely and says, “How many kids do you have?”
Because I’m an Air Traffic Controller people often say, ’Wow! That’s got to be so stressful! How stressful is that?’ Let me tell you, comparatively it’s not stressful. It’s not.
Stress is never being able to find a pacifier even though you know you just bought 4 packs of 2. And Target isn’t open yet.
Pacifiers. They will be the ruin of us.
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Originally published at GayDadSwag.com and is republished on Medium.
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Photo credit: Shutterstock
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Also about the The Dads and their Little Dude:
Raising Our Man to Be a Man
The Funniest Things Strangers Said to Us After We Adopted Our Dude
Sorry Little Dude, But Your Dads Are Still Confused
Follow them on Twitter at @gaydadswag
Having been in your situation with pacifiers far too many times I have two words for you: Pacifier leash. Either buy one or make one and clip it to your child, heck get a few and make sure one is clipped somewhere you can always find it. Kind of an extra one for emergencies. Pacifier leashes have saved me more times than I can count.