The Soother Fairy. He (sometimes she) sneaks into the rooms of unsuspecting toddlers while they’re at preschool, daycare, or maybe Grandma’s house, total unbeknownst the tragedy about to befall them. The tragedy of course being the theft of every soother in the house in exchange for a pile of extravagant, guilt-driven gifts and sugary treats. It’s sad yes. But the Soother Fairy isn’t without good reason.
He/She must distribute the soothers collected from big boys and girls to all the little babies who are in desperate need of their fix. If not from the Soother Fairy, than from who? And if not at the exact moment that mom and dad were starting to get worried about the onset of early addiction… when?
You’ve not heard of the Soother Fairy? That’s because I made him up. The concept occurred to me as the only possible way out of a screaming match that I was sure to lose. Our daughter has been something of a “delicate” sleeper (that’s putting it lightly) since the minute she escaped the womb, so despite our best convictions (after hours and hours… and hours of crying) that baby got plugged. It sort of worked sometimes, and then she got older and it sort of worked a little more often. Continue reading “You’ve Never Heard of the Soother Fairy?”
After having a mini melt-down two nights ago after reading an article about a series of child killings in Pakistan, I was hesitant to click into the article, but old habits are hard to kick and I stand by the fact that it’s far better to be in the know. I might have been wrong. My heart sinks as I read:
This morning, instead of driving towards a coffee shop or grocery store, I was brought to an undisclosed location and dropped off entirely against my will. It became apparent however, as my captor unloaded my belongings into my so-called “cubby”, that this had been planned for quite some time. While I’d already been given a full meal, I ate half a piece of toast, some crackers, and a pouch of pureed fruit and veg – more so out of shock than pure hunger. I could feel myself suffocating but then, as we went outside for a walk around the premises, I slowly regained my breath. The guards at this prison are not outwardly cruel, in fact they seem to go out of their way to be as nice to me as possible. I’m convinced it’s all part of the ruse, although I’m still trying to identify the end game. Whether they wish to carry out experiments on my young, unscathed body or push my fresh, open mind to the absolute brink; they will live to regret the day they tried to contain me. I made a decision after nibbling on those delicious fish shaped, cheese filled crackers; no more food. For as long as they keep me here, I will not eat. Let the hunger strike begin. 