I have something of a love/ hate relationship with dummies.
On the one hand they are ugly lumps of plastic that are going to make my girls talk like Daffy Duck.
On the other hand there’s quiet ... and sanity; both compelling reasons to make your peace with your children talking like Daffy Duck.
Recently we mislaid Olive’s dummy and I offered to buy Esme any treat she wanted, anything in the whole wide world, if she let Miss Olive have use of her dummy overnight.
She lasted 2 hours.
Then we entered a period of feverish negotiation where the baby was wailing, I was begging and Esme was giving us both the shark eye.
It was pretty brutal.
Luckily a spare dummy was found under a car seat.
Thick with dust and smelling slightly of cheese it wasn't something I would imagine giving to my child, but it’s amazing how much you can ignore your personal standards when the alternative is a rabid spitting, toddler.
Miss Olive clearly took note of Esme’s lack of sharing because in the brutal world of toddler justice, revenge is clearly a dish best served cold.