I could make you a crybaby.
Condition you to start sobbing at the slightest inconvenience or critique.
Did you drop your pen on the way to a meeting? You wail in frustration as your face scrunches up.
Did you sneeze too loud and someone looked at you funny? Now your eyes are all red and tears are pooling on your cheeks.
Forgot the laundry in the dryer? Bawling. No ketchup with your fries? Whimpering. Stepped on a crack? Inconsolable.
People started acting differently around you. Speaking to you in a soft, sing-song voice so they wouldn't upset you. Handing you things slowly and carefully with a big, stupid smile. That's it, honey, you got it.
When I started clipping the pacifier to your shirt, you thought it would be the end of your social life. Yet no one questioned it. No one stared. It made you calmer. Quieter. Easier to be around. Most of us were even grateful to see you suckling away, your constant little sobs muffled by the puff puff puff of your pretty pretty paci.
It was only natural, after all; you were the crybaby.
I made you this way 💙
