Has anyone seen that heartless whore, the Pacifier Fairy? Or how about that sneaky slut the Bottle Fairy? Apologies. That wasn’t nice. But those B-I-T-C-you-know-whats are messing with me and my family.

Armed with nothing more than a vague memory of an old Supernanny episode, my husband and I settled on a date to take away my son’s pacifier and bottle. For weeks leading up to the day, we told him that the Pacifier and Bottle Fairies were coming because big boys didn’t need them. She would take them and give them to babies who could use them. In return, he would get big boy things. I was scared, but buoyed by Paula’s recent success with getting June off of her bottle.

The Pacifier Fairy came first. We deposited a coffin sized plastic bin with 9 pacifiers rattling around the bottom on our front steps. Moments later, the doorbell rang and the bin was filled with a scooter and a helmet. Cue squeals of delight.

At dinner that night, we went to a restaurant and the waiter gave us a coloring book—of FAIRIES! What a coincidence! “Look, Mommy, Fairies! Is that the Paci Fairy?,” he asked me with a huge smile. “I don’t know maybe it’s the Bottle Fairy!,” I fired back cheerfully. If this scene were a movie, the soundtrack would get screechy and ominous at that very moment. “Bottle Fairy?” he asked with a preternatural stillness, big brown eyes on me.

A week passed with barely a word about a pacifier. We were so proud of him! It was so easy! We got cocky.

The following Saturday, we placed the bin of bottles on the steps. The doorbell rang—and there was a fire truck. Cue the same squeals of delight.

It started at bedtime. Running around his room in tight circles. “I want baba…I WANT baba…I WANT BABAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!” Tears. Kicks. Pleas. Negotiations. Tantrums. Sleep finally came, but many, many, many hours later. The next day, it was more of the same.  His requests became more bizarre. “I don’t want those pajamas, I want to go downstairs, I want to go on the couch, I want crackers, I don’t want this cup, Dada—sit down, Mama—go away.”  His eyes looked crazed. The naps were the first to get annihilated. By the end of each napless day, he doesn’t look tired. He looks charged up, pumped and ready for the baba battle.

I know that boys are supposed to give up their bottles because I’ve never seen a man on the subway reading the Wall Street Journal while sucking on a bottle. But I’m worried that we’ve done the wrong thing—too much, too soon. A sibling, starting school, no pacifier and now, no bottle?? I’ve never felt this kind of doubt before. Sleep training was excruciating, but after 3 days, he was fine. The first day of school drop off wasn’t so great, but he’s a trooper now. He’s totally fine without the pacifier. But the bottle—have we pushed him too far? Have we pushed ourselves too far? Unfortunately, we’ve painted ourselves into a corner with this Fairy fiction. If I decided to give him a small bottle of milk at night to taper him off more slowly, I’ll look like a big fat liar.

And BELIEVE me, I don’t want my son to think I’m a liar. So I’ve come up with a good lie to make me look like less of a liar. Here’s what I plan on telling him. “In one of the largest busts ever, federal investigators have arrested the Pacifier and Bottle Fairies on charges of misappropriating millions of pacis and babas under false pretenses for their own personal gain. Federal officials have started an emergency fund in an effort to compensate victims in a timely and prudent manner. For more information, please ask mommy to visit www.just_one_or_two_more_bottles_to_tide_you_over.gov.