On Christmas eve we thought of encouraging Hannah to give up her dummy. Easier said than done. We used the often mentioned method of father Christmas wanting her dummy in exchange for the toys that he would bring. That night amidst some mild protest and countless 'daddy where my dummy gone?' And the usual response of 'father Christmas wants it to get you your toys'. She finally fell asleep. Christmas morning, having enjoyed opening her presents, it was time to go to church. She probably asked for her dummy about 3 times but did not make much of a fuss. It was a bitterly cold Christmas morning as we made our way up the cul de sac, and past the surgery to the Anglican Church in the corner. As we settled in our presence the trouble began. It started with a whimpering of 'dummy' which gradually increased in frequency and sound until her cry for a dummy began to echo within the old church walls. Thankfully this was during the singing of the hymns and not the actual sermon. Embarrassed? You bet we were. Well, I had to also be thankful for Mitzi for ignoring my suggestion for not taking a dummy with us. The vicar at the end of the service had that twinkle in the eye as he shook our hands and wished us 'merry Christmas'. 'dummy trouble huh? '.
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