From the puck to the world.

I sucked my thumb until I was seven. In school, during dance class, at friends houses. Practically anywhere I went, my thumb was permanently in my mouth. My parents hated it. I can't tell you the number of times they told me my thumb was going to one day, up and fall off my hand because of it. Of course I loved it. Psychologist would call it my oral fixation. I simply call it my comfort.

I stopped on a dare. Or rather a bet from my grandmother who promised me a stuffed Miss Piggy doll if I stopped sucking my thumb. In return she would give up smoking. At seven I fully believed she would be true to her word and stop. Like it was that easy. Somehow my desire for Ms. Piggy beat out my desire for the thumb and I broke free of the addiction that for so long had been my comfort.

Funny, I have not one clue what happened to that doll. I am sure she is stuffed in a black garbage back somewhere in the back of my parents attic being totally ignored.

My thumb on the other hand is still fully attached.

So now Logan has begun his fascination with his fingers. And this evening while over at my parents, he stuck his finger in his mouth-ironically his left-and began sucking away...

I am already on the hunt for a doll. Though I am thinking Kermit over Ms. Piggy..