Two and the Tutu

The girl has security issues. In three months time we've gone from the binky, to the shoes, and now to the tutu. We took away Christina's pacifiers cold turkey one day in October, when we discovered she had been biting holes in them. In an effort to fill the void of her loss, we offered her other comfort items, such as a sippy cup, teddy bear, or extra blanket. Sometimes after being sent to bed, and while lamenting over her beloved binky, Christina would 'call' us (i.e. scream), in hopes we would give up and continue to fuel her little addiction.

"How about a book?", we'd offer. One night she surprised us and countered with "No, I want shoes." Thrilled that she was willing to consider something besides the pacifier, we quickly armed her with her favorite pair of shoes. From that moment, the shoes remained on her feet for three weeks (with the exception of bath time). One night I tried to be sly and quietly slipped the shoes off her feet while she slept. I managed to get them off without a huge disturbance, but it didn't last long. Half an hour later, she woke up crying for the shoes. Back on her feet went the shoes.

The girl's obsession didn't stop with her own shoes. She still clomps around in her brothers' and sister's shoes daily; everything from cleats, to snow boots, to water shoes, to dress-up shoes. She's worn them all, including John's and mine. One day when my feet were cold, I searched the house for my slippers. After cleaning out my closet thoroughly and looking under couches, I finally found them. They were on my youngest daughter's feet. Eventually, Christina had walked in every one's shoes and she slowly began to relax a little about her shoe obsession.

But as the shoe interest slowed down, Christina acquired a new habit in the form of a hideous pink tutu. She found the tutu at the bottom of a dress-up box amongst old Halloween costumes, cowboy hats, wigs, and her sister's princess dresses. The tutu went on and it hasn't come of since (except for bath time, of course). She even baulks at me when I take it off to change her diaper. "I want princess!", she yells. Poor John, who was unaware of the new tutu obsession, made the mistake of taking off her tutu before bed, despite her outrageous wails of protest. She screamed so hard we had to have her sister's ear drums checked the next morning for permanent damage. Finally, we caved and decided it wasn't worth it- she could just have the bleeping tutu.

Christina's tutu phase reminded me of a three-year old girl who used to live across the street from us when I was about eleven. Her name was Wendy and I never saw the child a day in her young life without her cowboy boots, a burger king crown, and yep- you guessed it, the pink tutu. She also refused to wear a shirt and ran around topless for at least a year. Wendy is 28 years old now (I pray God, she's dropped the topless habit by now) and is probably dealing with her own set of tutu issues with her kids at home. But reminiscing on those years way-back-when has made me realize with trepidation: the tutu may only be the beginning of what I must face over this next year with my daughter. I can only anticipate that my penance for abruptly removing the pacifier has not yet been paid in full.