Old Habits

When I was in college, I had a fairly bizarre habit of occasionally eating in my sleep.  I wasn't one of those people who ate raw eggs in the middle of the night, but I did wake up with part of a hot dog bun on my pillow on more than one occasion. 

 

Anyway, this post has nothing to do with that.  David and I have been carrying a dark secret about our parenting.  Until last month, Morgan got a glass of milk in bed while reading books.  Every night.  Sometimes, she got two. Both our pediatrician and dentist would be appalled. But we were desperate to help our our daughter become a good sleeper and milk before bed did the trick.  Until she turned four and I realized she was totally dependent on milk.  Like some kind of milk junkie. 

 

So we decided to quit the habit that had been a part of our lives for the past 1460 nights (yes, I calculated it).  I told Morgan we were cutting her off, and she actually took it like a champ. Until I went in to check on her that night and found this.  Total death grip.

Since then, I have found her in bed on more than one occasion clutching some random item for comfort.  It's usually her teddy bear, and once in a while, I find her with her flashlight.

But when I  found her the other night desperately clutching three tiny pretzels,  I realized this transition might be a little harder on her than I thought. Maybe I should start sending her to bed with hot dog buns.