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According to my mother, I was already born with my big toe in my mouth. It is curious that many children already suck their thumb inside the womb, so I sucked my thumb before I even opened my eyes.
Since I have memories, the finger was for me a second mother: he comforted me in difficult moments, he tucked me in at nights of sleep, he protected me when I was afraid and when I was shame, he was my friend, my advisor and my best ally, but above all, he was better pain relieving for encouragement than anything else in this world.
My father would go out of his way to make me stop sucking my thumb all the time. He chased me around the house, spying on me to scold me, he slapped my hand to get it out of my mouth, and I saw his eyes roll over every time he caught me secretly sucking my finger, because what was clearer than water, is that I never I wanted to get rid of my dear friend the finger.
My mother, much more subtle than my father, tried to mentalize me of the negative effects that the finger had on my teeth and palate, and how ugly it was to talk with your finger in your mouth, because, of course, I was able to have long conversations while still sucking on my finger.
I got a callus in the joint of the finger, where my teeth were squashed, and the teeth of above went forward; still it was not enough to do without that drug natural.
Indeed, the true reason that he was hiding behind my never wanting to stop sucking my thumb, despite the fact that my friends laugh at me, and my family ridicule me in public to see if that would work, is that the finger was like a drug. I was totally hooked on him, and it was impossible for me not to fall asleep or watch TV without him in my mouth.
My mother tried to put a liquid that tasted bitter on my finger so that I could not suck it, and all she got was to have a crying girl desperate all night, while I was washing my finger a thousand times with all the soaps I found, until finally I put it in my mouth even though it tasted bad.
The pleasure that provided me with sucking my thumb was not comparable to anything. The moment he put his finger in my mouth, the world that I was so comfortable, safe, and in a cloud of happiness could disappear that did not matter the consequences.
I continued to suck my thumb until I was 14, at which point my mother took me to a camp of mixed summer. Boys were my reference point in the universe back then, so the shame in this case it was more than the pleasure, and I decided to tie my hand to the bed with the pillowcase to be able to get rid of that habit that so many good times had put me through.
Finally, after 15 days without sucking my thumb, I relegated him to one end of my hand and with no other service than being one of my 10 fingers.
Still, with more than 40 years behind me, if I suck my finger, I find that unconditional tranquility that has never given me any tranquilizer, but of course, now it doesn't seem right to take up that old woman habit.
In short, what I want to explain to you with this story is that you try understand what thumb sucking provides the child. As much as you get angry with him, if the child does not want to, he will never leave him, he will only continue to suck his finger secretly.
If you can encourage him to quit, explain the drawbacks He has for him, even taking him to the dentist to dissuade him in some way, so there will come a time when he himself wants to leave it without pressure.
You can read more articles similar to The reason kids suck their thumb, in the category of Mental Disorders on site.