Since the day she discovered it as a baby, Miss A’s soothing agent of choice has always been her left thumb. She never needs to worry about it falling between her mattress and the wall or disappearing into the black hole also known as the back seat of my car, especially that pesky little area where you buckle the seat belts that tends to collect Dum Dum sucker wrappers and pennies.
Her thumb seeking has dwindled down to bedtime or when she’s feeling a little puny and she needs a quick pop of comfort. The other night I was teasing her about sucking her thumb and as I curled up next to her in her twin size bed I playfully grabbed her thumb and plucked it from her mouth. “I’m gonna get your thumb Miss A! You’re 4 now, you’re too big to be sucking that thumb!”
She giggled and before plopping it back in her mouth she said, “Mommy I need to take my thumb a bath. It’s dirty.”
I’ve never heard her say such a thing (and such a cute thing I might add), but I suppose at 4 she’s starting to justify the thumb sucking. And that makes me a little sad.
Yesterday she woke up a little snuffly and I covered her with a warm afghan my mom made years ago and as a tousle haired Miss A curled into the couch pillows she plopped her thumb in her mouth.
I guess she thought I might intervene because she said, “Mommy you know why I just give my thumb a quick bath?”
“Why baby?” I asked.
“Cause it was a little dirty. But it didn’t taste bad,” she hesitated for a moment. “It was good dirt.”