When my daughter Caroline was four she wouldn’t go to bed without her blanket and a bottle. The blanket was still age appropriate and easy to find at bedtime. But her bottle was becoming an easily misplaced obsession. Too many nights of searching and tears had her, her mother, and me frustrated.

Her mother and I tried many ways to get her to give up the bottle, including withholding it until she got over it. None of us could go even one night without the bottle.

Then I had an idea. I started to whisper things to her mother while we each cast discrete looks in Caroline’s direction. Nothing overt. Just the kind of things parents do that a child eventually notices and wants to know what is going on.

When Caroline asked we said, “Oh, nothing. We were just wondering if you were old enough.”

“Old enough for what?”

“For your bottle throwing-away party.”

“PARTY?

“Yes, party. When someone is old enough and it is time to stop having a bottle at bedtime there is a party to celebrate. You know, with a cake and presents.”

“Presents? I’m ready!” she said.

We said, “We’re not sure, but you sure seem close. We’ll keep checking on you while you decide if you are really ready to give up your bottle.”

Several weeks later we all decided she was ready and set a date for the party the following week. During that time we talked about growing up, and change, and used the dialogue to see if she really was letting go of her bottle. Also during this time we didn’t give her any pressure at all about the bottle.

At the party we had cake and presents. Then I made a big show of going out and bringing in the trashcan. Caroline picked up her bottle, which had been sitting with a ribbon on it in a place of honor on the table, and threw it in the trash. We all smiled and laughed and clapped and I took the trashcan out. (I stashed the bottle in case my plan didn’t work.)

The party and play continued until it was time for bed. I got her ready––helped her with her PJs, found her blanket, tucked her in, told her I loved her, told her I was proud of her growing up, and said good night.

She looked up at me and said, “Bottle?”

Fortunately I laughed. Then she laughed too, snuggled in, and went to sleep. I think that was the first I’m-growing-up-back-at-you joke I ever got from her––but maybe she was just checking.

The bottle was never again an issue.