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What's The Worst That Could Happen?

I then started thinking about all of the things that trouble me about my child, all of the niggling worries that I have about his development, his health and well being. I realised that I'm worrying over absolutely NOTHING. My fears are simply outrageous.

*Warning. May cause offence to Politicians

My toddler woke up at 4.12 am on Thursday. Screaming. Loudly.

My first reaction? Dummy!!! I stuck it in his mouth sharpish...but he spat it out.

Plan B?...I held the dummy in his mouth, lay him down and patted his tiny bum for reassurance. But he kept leaping back up, crying louder and louder and rattled the bars of his cot like a wild caged animal.

Plan C?....I lifted him (I know, I know...BAD move) and gave him a hug. He calmed down and then I tried to stick him back in his cot. Oh no. NO DEAL. He went mental. So I made the worst decision ever...

Plan D.....Yep, I brought him INTO MY BED to sleep in between me and my husband.

Result? You guessed it. He immediately stopped crying the moment his head hit my fancy-ass John Lewis pillows. He then started to chuckle, poke me in the eye sockets and then repeatedly flicked my bottom lip up and down.Then he preceded to playfully kick me in the guts for a full 45 minutes before he eventually passed out. By morning, he was sprawled across the centre of the bed like a giant freeze-dried starfish whilst my husband and I clung to opposite sides of the mattress..battered and bruised and traumatised from the vicious toddler assault.

This happened on Friday too at 4.12 am. And then last night...again at 4.12 am. What if he does it again tonight? And tomorrow?? And for the REST OF HIS LIFE???

Panic has kicked in!! I remember my Mum saying to me 'Don't ever take him into your bed or you'll NEVER get him out!'....and now I am terrified that she may just be right.

But, Hold on!! Let's be serious here....

Is it really possible that one day when I'm a wrinkled pensioner, my decrepit husband and I are going to have to share our bed with our giant, bearded, dummy-sucking, middle-aged man child? Am I really going to suffer getting kicked in the guts and poked in the eyeballs when I am in my 70's? Really?

Of course not. That's just ridiculous! I am worrying over nothing.

I then started thinking about all of the things that trouble me about my child, all of the niggling worries that I have about his development, his health and well being. I realised that I'm worrying over absolutely NOTHING. My fears are simply outrageous.

Here are my main fears and why I am SO over them:



My toddler sucks his dummy ALL the live long day. If I try and take it away from him, he goes mental and his head spins round 360 degrees whilst green fluids shoot from every orifice in his body (mild exaggeration)


I worry that he'll never stop using it. He may develop an under bite. It may hinder his speech development.. It may ruin his ability to socialise and he will live a lonely silicone-sucking existence!


If the dummy was so addictive, it wouldn't just be my son who is affected....the addiction would be a worldwide concern- much like smoking. Kids wouldn't be able to stop sucking them and the problem would spread into adulthood.

I mean, when was the last time you went to a pub and saw a table full of grown men removing their dummies for a quick swig of their pints before immediately sticking the things back in their mouths?....Never.

When was the last time you sat on a rush hour train home in front of a row of dummy-sucking business men reading their newspapers??...NEVER.

Ridiculous! I am worrying over nothing. He'll stop sucking the dummy eventually. Most of us do.



I just cannot get my toddler to sit on a potty for love nor money. I've tried giving love, and then chocolate money but he would much rather soil himself and then get immense satisfaction from watching my husband or I clean it up.


I worry that he'll never be able to sit on a potty, or a toilet even. How will he cope at school? Will he gas out his entire class with his toxic stench? Will he become known as the 'Smelly kid'? ...What if the school refuses to take him in the first place until he is fully toilet trained? Will he spend the rest of his life sitting in his own faeces, losing his chance of an education, whilst all of his potty-trained peers head off to Oxford University to pursue their ambitions?


Again, chances are that if my kid finds defecating into a ceramic bowl a challenge, other kids will too. This doesn't mean that he will never learn how to do it. I mean, when was the last time a grown man rolled up to the pub for a night out saying, 'Sorry I'm late guys, I had to wait for my Mum to change my Pampers Size 45 nappy and then ended up missing my train'?...Never.

Seriously, can you remember a time when you sat on a train choking on the hideous stench of rows of grown dummy-sucking business men, stewing in their own excrement whilst reading their newspapers??...Nope.

RIDICULOUS. He'll learn how to poo in the bowl eventually. Most of us do.

he will sit on me sooner or later



My toddler doesn't speak much...hardly at all even. He only says 'No' and all possible variations of it: 'Oh no!', 'Nope' and 'No no NOOOO!'. Anything else that he does say is just pure garbling nonsense.


What if he never learns how to speak? How will others understand him? What if he spends his life in silence...just sitting in a stinking nappy gnawing on a blob of silicone??


If the human race never learnt how to speak, we wouldn't have words. Without words, we wouldn't have Shakespeare, or Keats, or Verdi....or Jeremy Kyle!! How would we have lie detector tests if no one was actually able to talk and thus tell an actual lie? What would daytime TV be like without the glory that is the 'Chat Show'??

How would the country be run? Can you imagine all of our MP's just sitting around in the House Of Commons just garbling pure nonsense??

What state would our country be in for crying out loud??

This is also RIDICULOUS. My son will learn to talk eventually. Most of us do. (I just hope he has something worthwhile to say when he finally does speak)

I could go on and on about my parenting anxieties. Getting my son to eat vegetables is a concern, his sleeping habits a worry, his inability to share or manage his outrageous mood swings keeps me up at night. I am worried about all of these things. All parents are.

However, I have decided to take a chill pill and keep the faith, All of these problems should iron themselves out eventually. The dummy will go, the poo will land in the bowl and he will say something vaguely coherent one day.

If he doesn't, I am confident that he stands a chance of having a career in Politics one day, which will at least bring him significant financial rewards....then he could afford to purchase as many silicone treats as his heart desires should he still require something to suck on.