Deet

My son is two years old and still has a pacifier. He doesn’t use it all the time, but God help us if he can’t find it when he wants it.

Before all of the parenting gurus start hurling threats at me about the pacifier, let me just say that I don’t want him to have it. I also don’t want to have a breakdown when he screams for three hours looking for it. So, pick the lesser of two evils.

But let’s get past this example of my horrible parenting skills for a moment, shall we? The pacifier isn’t the issue – it’s what my son calls the pacifier.

He calls it a “deet.”

I don’t know where "deet" came from. The only “deet” that I know of is the stuff that is in insect repellent.

And that’s the first reaction people probably have when they hear him say “deet” and then I have to explain what a “deet” is. I’m sure they think I feed my son insect repellent or something.
Again, another glaring example of my parenting skills.

“Well, it all started when I mixed the DEET in with the white grape juice. One taste and he was hooked!”

And he is in love with his deet. When he finds his deet, after walking through the house yelling, “Deet, where are you?” He has the biggest smile on his face as he exclaims, “Deet!” and pops it in his mouth.

So, I know that in about eleven years we will be running him to the orthodontist. You don’t have to say it. But, I can deal with that later.