#mcfoord

-

The locker room buzzed with post-match energy—shouts, laughter, the thud of boots being kicked off and the hiss of water bottles opening. Katie McCabe sat on the bench, one leg bouncing furiously as she peeled her socks off with twitchy fingers. Her eyes darted around, barely resting anywhere for long. Her thoughts didn’t either.

It wasn’t that she was nervous. They’d won, and she’d even assisted Caitlin’s goal. But her body hadn’t got the memo to stop. Her hands were drumming against her thigh now, and she was halfway through retying her ponytail for no real reason when Beth’s voice cut across the room.

“God, you can’t ever sit still, McCabe,” Beth said with a teasing laugh, nodding at Katie’s constant fidgeting. “You’ve got ants in your pants or something?”

The words weren’t harsh. Not really. Just playful. The kind of banter that got thrown around after matches all the time. But it hit Katie sideways.

She froze, her leg stilled.

The room kept spinning around her, full of motion and sound, but she suddenly felt like she was glowing under a spotlight. Her jaw tightened as she forced a smile, then grabbed her water bottle a bit too quickly and muttered, “Just got energy, s’all.”

But she was quiet the rest of the time. Her body didn’t calm, but now every bounce of her leg felt like a mistake. Every wiggle, every twist of her wrist or shuffle in her seat, felt like something she should hide.

-

Back at home, the flat was quiet. Caitlin was in the kitchen grabbing two beers, humming softly. Katie sat curled up on the couch, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her phone screen flickering in her hand. She was still. Almost too still.

Caitlin noticed. She always did.

“Alright, what’s up?” Caitlin asked, setting the drinks down and sitting beside her, her arm slipping easily around Katie’s waist.

“Nothing,” Katie mumbled. “Just tired.”

Caitlin tilted her head. “You’re never still when you’re tired. You’re twitchy and adorable and annoying as hell when you’re tired.”

Katie gave a weak laugh, then went quiet again.

Caitlin waited. And when Katie didn’t say anything, she gently pressed, “Was it what Beth said?”

Katie’s eyes flicked toward her, then dropped. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid if it’s making you go quiet,” Caitlin said softly, brushing Katie’s arm with her thumb. “Talk to me.”

Katie let out a sigh. “It just… I know I’m always moving. I know I fidget and bounce and interrupt people sometimes and I can’t help it. I’m not trying to be annoying. But when people point it out—even when they’re joking—it makes me feel like… like I should just shut it all off, y’know?”

Caitlin’s heart clenched. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Katie’s temple.

“Hey,” she whispered. “You don’t have to shut anything off. Not for anyone.”

Katie blinked a few times, fighting the tight feeling in her chest.

“I love how your brain works,” Caitlin said. “I love that you’re always buzzing. That you think in twenty directions at once and have three different ideas before I’ve finished one sentence. That you’re alive in this loud, bright way no one else is.”

Katie turned her head, meeting Caitlin’s eyes, and there was something raw in hers now.

“And I love your fidgeting,” Caitlin added with a soft grin. “Means I always know where you are in a room. You’re like… constant motion. My own little storm.”

Katie cracked a smile—small, but real. “Your storm, huh?”

“Damn right,” Caitlin said, pulling her into a hug. “And if anyone can’t handle it, they can get out of the way.”

Katie laughed against her shoulder, and this time, her leg bounced again. She didn’t try to stop it.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

“Always,” Caitlin replied. “Now, c’mere. Let’s put on something crap on telly and you can fidget all you want. I’ll just sit here and admire it.”

The final whistle had barely blown before Katie McCabe ripped off her armband and stormed down the tunnel. The sting of a 5-2 loss to Aston Villa was brutal enough—but the fact that one of those goals had come from her own error? That was enough to make her blood boil.

The locker room was silent, the kind of silence that came with embarrassment and frustration. No one dared say much, not even Caitlin. Not when Katie had fire in her eyes and clenched fists.

Katie didn’t speak the entire way home. She drove, jaw locked, knuckles white on the steering wheel. Caitlin sat beside her, quiet but alert. She knew this side of Katie. The one that hated losing, hated mistakes. The one that took every goal conceded as a personal failure.

-

As soon as they got inside the house, Katie dropped her bag by the door and disappeared into the bedroom. The sound of a door closing wasn’t a slam—but it was enough.

Caitlin took a deep breath and got to work.

She knew Katie’s moods. She didn’t need words. She knew that under all that anger was disappointment and self-blame. She wasn’t going to let her spiral into it alone.

She pulled out the blanket from the back of the couch, the fluffy one Katie pretended not to like but always ended up cuddled in. Then she rifled through the cupboard until she found the stash—salt and vinegar crisps, Maltesers, and a tub of cookie dough ice cream. She put the kettle on for tea, then settled the final piece of the plan.

Ten minutes later, the living room was dimly lit, the opening credits of The Devil Wears Prada rolling on screen, snacks within arm’s reach, and Caitlin sitting curled up in the corner of the couch with a soft pillow in her lap, waiting.

It took another few minutes, but eventually, Katie emerged. Her eyes were tired, red-rimmed. She didn’t speak. She just stood there.

“I put your movie on,” Caitlin said softly, patting the space next to her. “And I didn’t eat any of the Maltesers. Yet.”

Katie blinked, a flicker of something crossing her face. She hesitated, then padded over, sinking onto the couch without a word. Caitlin immediately wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“You were trying to fix the shape, not your fault Villa capitalised,” Caitlin murmured, running her fingers gently through Katie’s hair. “One mistake doesn’t cancel all the good you did today.”

Katie let out a long breath and leaned into Caitlin’s touch. “I just… I should’ve done better. I let them get through too easily.”

“We all mess up sometimes. You’re still the heartbeat of that team.” She turned Katie’s face slightly and kissed her cheek. “You care so much, and that’s why you’re brilliant.”

Katie didn’t respond right away. She let her head rest on Caitlin’s shoulder, the soft hum of the film playing in the background. After a while, she reached for a Malteser and tossed it into her mouth.

“I hate that I’m this grumpy after a match.”

Caitlin chuckled. “It’s part of your charm.”

Katie rolled her eyes but smiled—just a little.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

Caitlin kissed her again, this time on the lips. “Always.”

At twenty months old, Y/N McCord had mastered three things: headbutting with surgical precision, saying "bang bang" at inappropriate moments, and wielding her pacifier like a tiny dictator's scepter. The pacifier – or "dummy" as Katie insisted on calling it – had become Y/N's most prized possession, second only to her ability to cause chaos.

"We need to wean her off it," Caitlin said, watching Y/N contentedly suck on the purple silicone pacifier while simultaneously plotting her next headbutting target. "She's getting too old for it."

"She's fine," Katie replied, not looking up from her phone. "It keeps her quiet."

"It's affecting her speech development. And her teeth."

"Her speech is fine. She can say 'bang bang' perfectly clearly."

"That's not exactly expanding her vocabulary, Katie."

Y/N, sensing the conversation was about her, looked up and grinned around her pacifier. "Bang bang?" she offered hopefully.

"See? Communication skills are spot on," Katie said.

Caitlin sighed. "We're doing this. Today."

"Doing what today?"

"Taking away the pacifier."

Katie's head snapped up. "Today? Just like that?"

"The pediatrician said cold turkey is the fastest method."

"The pediatrician doesn't have to live with her."

"Katie."

"Fine, but I'm warning you – she's not going to take this well."

"How bad could it be?"

Thirty minutes later, Caitlin had her answer. Very, very bad.

Y/N stood in the middle of the living room, pacifier-less and absolutely furious. Her face was red, tears streamed down her cheeks, and she was making a sound that could only be described as the wail of a tiny banshee.

"WAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! DUMMY! DUMMY!"

"It's gone, sweetheart," Caitlin said, trying to sound calm despite the fact that her eardrums felt like they were bleeding. "You're a big girl now."

"DUMMY!" Y/N shrieked, and then, in a move that surprised no one, she charged straight at the coffee table and delivered a devastating headbutt.

"She's stress-headbutting," Katie observed, raising her voice over the wailing. "This is new."

"BANG BANG! DUMMY! BANG BANG!"

Y/N had discovered that combining her two favorite things – headbutting and demanding her pacifier – created maximum chaos. She ricocheted from the coffee table to the couch to the wall, headbutting each surface while screaming for her dummy.

"Maybe we should give it back," Katie suggested, wincing as Y/N's head connected with the TV stand.

"No. We committed to this."

"DUMMYYYYYY!" Y/N threw herself dramatically on the floor and began what could only be described as a full-body tantrum, complete with kicking legs and flailing arms.

"She's like a tiny, angry octopus," Katie said.

"A tiny, angry octopus who knows exactly how to press our buttons."

Y/N, hearing the word "octopus," paused her tantrum long enough to look confused. "Dummy?"

"No dummy," Caitlin said firmly.

The wailing resumed with renewed intensity.

Two hours later, Y/N had exhausted herself enough to fall into a fitful sleep on the couch, tear-stained and clutching a stuffed elephant like it might transform into her beloved pacifier.

"That was brutal," Katie whispered.

"It's only day one," Caitlin replied. "It'll get easier."

"You don't actually believe that, do you?"

"I have to believe that, or I'll give her the pacifier back right now."

Y/N stirred in her sleep, and both women froze. She made a small sucking motion with her lips, then settled back down.

"She's dreaming about it," Katie said.

"This is harder than I thought it would be."

"We could try gradual weaning. Cut a little hole in it each day until she loses interest."

"The internet said cold turkey was better."

"The internet has never met our daughter."

Y/N's eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, she looked peaceful and sweet. Then she remembered the great pacifier betrayal of 2025.

"DUMMY!" she screamed, launching into immediate distress mode.

"Here we go again," Caitlin sighed.

The next morning brought no improvement. If anything, Y/N seemed to have developed new and creative ways to express her pacifier-related rage. She had learned to say "WHERE DUMMY?" with perfect diction and had begun incorporating headbutting into every aspect of her daily routine.

"She headbutted her breakfast," Katie reported, looking at the scattered Cheerios on the floor.

"She headbutted her clothes when I tried to dress her," Caitlin added.

"She tried to headbutt the toothbrush."

"I think she's having an identity crisis. The pacifier was part of who she was."

"She was a baby with a dummy, Cait. Not a philosophical statement."

"DUMMY! WHERE DUMMY!" Y/N announced from her high chair, then proceeded to headbutt the tray for emphasis.

"She's asking valid questions," Katie said. "Where did we put it?"

"Hidden. Very, very hidden."

"Maybe we should tell her we gave it to another baby who needed it."

"She's twenty months old, not five."

"She's smart. She might understand."

Y/N, who had been listening intently to their conversation despite appearing to be focused on destroying her breakfast, suddenly perked up. "Baby? Dummy baby?"

"Oh no," Caitlin said. "Don't give her ideas."

"Baby dummy!" Y/N repeated, then began looking around the room with the focused intensity of a tiny detective. "Find baby!"

"Great. Now she thinks there's a baby somewhere in the house with her pacifier."

"There could be," Katie said thoughtfully.

"Katie, no."

"I'm just saying, if we got her a baby doll and put a pacifier with it, she might—"

"BABY! DUMMY BABY!" Y/N had caught onto this plan and was now demanding immediate production of the theoretical baby.

"Look what you've done," Caitlin accused.

"I've given her hope."

"You've given her another thing to be angry about when it doesn't materialize."

Y/N had apparently decided that if they weren't going to produce the dummy baby immediately, she would find it herself. She scrambled down from her high chair and began a systematic search of the living room, headbutting likely hiding spots.

"She's going to destroy the house looking for this imaginary baby," Caitlin said.

"Or find where we actually hid the pacifiers."

"You didn't."

"I hid them very well."

"Katie, where did you hide them?"

"In the—"

"DUMMY!" Y/N shrieked triumphantly from the kitchen. She had somehow managed to climb onto a chair and reach the top shelf of the cupboard, where she had discovered the emergency pacifier stash.

"She's like a tiny ninja," Katie said admiringly.

"A tiny ninja who has defeated our best efforts at child psychology."

Y/N clutched the pacifier to her chest like it was made of gold, then popped it into her mouth with a satisfied sigh. The change was immediate – her tears stopped, her face relaxed, and she looked at her parents with an expression that clearly said, "Nice try, amateurs."

"Well," Caitlin said, "that lasted longer than I expected."

"Twelve hours is basically a record for us sticking to a parenting plan."

"We're terrible at this."

"We're learning."

Y/N, pacifier firmly in place, toddled over and headbutted Katie's leg gently – her version of a peace offering.

"See? She forgives us," Katie said.

"She's celebrating her victory."

"Same thing."

"We're not giving up," Caitlin announced the next day. "We're just... adjusting our strategy."

"By giving her the pacifier back?"

"By limiting pacifier time. Gradual weaning."

"The internet said—"

"The internet doesn't live with Y/N McCabe-Foord."

Their new plan involved designated pacifier times: nap time, bedtime, and "emergency situations." The emergency clause, they both knew, would be heavily exploited.

"Dummy time?" Y/N asked hopefully, presenting them with her pacifier like an offering.

"It's not dummy time," Caitlin said. "It's play time."

Y/N considered this, then headbutted the nearest wall in protest.

"Emergency situation?" Katie suggested.

"It's been five minutes since the last emergency."

"She's very high-stress."

"She creates her own stress by headbutting things!"

"DUMMY TIME!" Y/N announced, having apparently decided that loudness would solve her problem.

"No dummy time," Caitlin repeated.

Y/N's response was to charge directly at the couch and execute a perfect diving headbutt into the cushions.

"Okay, that was actually impressive," Katie admitted.

"Don't encourage her stress-headbutting."

"I'm just appreciating the athleticism."

Y/N popped up from the couch cushions, hair disheveled, and grinned at Katie. "Bang bang!"

"Yes, very good bang bang. Now, can you play without the dummy?"

Y/N considered this question seriously, then shook her head. "Dummy play."

"We could compromise," Katie suggested. "Dummy for ten minutes, then play time."

"That's not weaning, that's negotiating with a tiny terrorist."

"All parenting is negotiating with tiny terrorists."

"DUMMY! DUMMY! DUMMY!" Y/N had discovered that chanting made her demands more urgent.

"Fine," Caitlin said, producing the pacifier. "Ten minutes."

Y/N snatched it and popped it in her mouth with the speed of a professional. Then she settled contentedly on the floor and began playing with her blocks, peaceful as an angel.

"She's manipulating us," Caitlin said.

"Very effectively."

"This is not how parenting is supposed to work."

"I don't think there's a manual for parenting Y/N specifically."

"There should be. Chapter One: Accept Defeat Early."

Y/N, hearing her name, looked up and smiled around her pacifier. She held up a block and said, very clearly, "Block."

"Oh my god, she said a new word," Katie said excitedly.

"With the pacifier in her mouth."

"Maybe it's not affecting her speech as much as we thought."

"Don't you dare use this as an excuse to give up on weaning."

"I'm just saying, she seems fine."

Y/N, as if to prove the point, said "Block" again, then immediately tried to headbutt the block tower she'd built.

"She's definitely fine," Katie laughed.

"She's definitely ours."

By day three, they had developed a routine of sorts. Y/N would wake up asking for her dummy, be denied, have a moderate tantrum involving strategic headbutting, eventually be granted pacifier time, and then repeat the cycle throughout the day.

"This is actually working," Caitlin said, watching Y/N play quietly with her pacifier. "She's learning that she can't have it all the time."

"She's learning that if she headbutts enough things, we'll give in."

"That's not— okay, that might be what she's learning."

"We've created a monster."

"We've created a very determined negotiator."

Y/N's pacifier time was up, and she seemed to sense it. She clutched it protectively and gave them a look that suggested she was prepared to fight for it.

"Dummy time done, sweetheart," Caitlin said gently.

"No done," Y/N replied firmly.

"Yes, done. We can have dummy time again later."

"Now dummy."

"Later dummy."

Y/N stood up, pacifier still firmly in place, and walked over to the wall. She looked back at her parents, making sure they were watching, then delivered a deliberate headbutt to the wall.

"She's making a point," Katie observed.

"What point?"

"That she's willing to headbutt things to keep her dummy."

"She headbutts things anyway!"

Y/N, apparently deciding that one headbutt wasn't sufficient, began a systematic assault on every wall in the room, working her way around the perimeter like she was conducting an inspection.

"She's stress-testing the house," Katie said.

"She's stress-testing us."

After completing her wall survey, Y/N returned to stand in front of them, pacifier still in place, looking immensely proud of herself.

"Dummy," she said simply.

"You can keep it for now," Caitlin surrendered. "But we're trying again tomorrow."

Y/N nodded solemnly, as if this was a reasonable business arrangement.

"She's going to be a very effective negotiator when she grows up," Katie said.

"If we survive long enough to see her grow up."

"We'll survive. We're tougher than we look."

"Are we though?"

Y/N, satisfied with the outcome of the negotiation, toddled off to find something appropriate to headbutt in celebration.

"At least she's happy," Katie said.

"For now."

"That's all we can ask for, really."

"Tomorrow we're trying a different approach."

"What approach?"

"I don't know yet. But it'll be brilliant."

"Or it'll be a complete disaster."

"With Y/N, those are often the same thing."

Y/N had found the cat and was approaching him with obvious intent. Coop Purr, wise to her ways by now, got up and moved to a higher shelf.

"Even the cat knows better than to get in the middle of this," Katie observed.

"The cat is smarter than we are."

"The cat doesn't have to teach her life skills."

"The cat has the right idea though. Strategic retreat."

"We can't retreat. We're the parents."

"We can regroup."

"Fine. We're regrouping."

Y/N, denied her feline target, settled for headbutting the couch instead. She seemed satisfied with this compromise and went back to playing with her blocks, pacifier bobbing contentedly.

"She really is perfect, isn't she?" Caitlin said, watching their daughter.

"Even when she's defeating all our parenting attempts."

"Especially then."

"Tomorrow's another day."

"Tomorrow we'll be stronger."

"Tomorrow we'll have better strategies."

"Tomorrow we'll probably give her the pacifier within five minutes."

"Probably."

"But we'll try."

"We'll definitely try."

Y/N looked up from her blocks and smiled at them around her pacifier. "Mummy! Mam!"

"Yes, baby?"

"Bang bang!"

And with that, she charged toward them for what they had learned to recognize as an affectionate headbutt – her way of saying she loved them, even when they were being completely unreasonable about dummy time.

"She's forgiven us," Katie said, accepting the gentle headbutt to her shoulder.

"She's claiming victory."

"Same thing, really."

"Same thing."

And somewhere in the kitchen, hidden in a cupboard they had forgotten about, sat a backup stash of pacifiers that Y/N had somehow missed in her search. But that was a battle for another day.

For now, they were content to be gently headbutted by their determined, pacifier-wielding, absolutely perfect tiny warrior.

Even if she was definitely winning the war.

Day Four brought a new development: Y/N had learned to hide her pacifier.

"Where is it?" Caitlin asked, searching through Y/N's toy box.

"She's not telling," Katie reported from across the room, where she was checking behind cushions.

Y/N sat in the middle of the chaos, looking innocent and pacifier-less, but with the satisfied expression of someone who had successfully executed a complex heist.

"Dummy?" she asked sweetly.

"Where did you put your dummy?" Caitlin asked.

Y/N smiled and shrugged, a gesture she had recently learned and was deploying with devastating effectiveness.

"She's twenty months old," Katie said. "How is she this good at hiding things?"

"She's strategic. She gets that from you."

"I'm not strategic, I'm... practical."

"You once hid Christmas presents so well you forgot where you put them."

"That was different."

"Was it?"

Y/N, apparently bored with their searching, got up and toddled to the kitchen. Five minutes later, she returned with her pacifier, somehow having retrieved it from whatever secret location she'd chosen.

"How did she—"

"Don't ask questions we don't want answered," Katie advised.

Y/N popped the pacifier in her mouth and settled down to play, looking immensely pleased with herself.

"She's outsmarted us again," Caitlin said.

"At least she's consistent."

"Consistently one step ahead of us."

"She gets that from both of us."

"The determination to win at all costs?"

"The ability to drive each other completely mental."

Y/N looked up from her toys and, around her pacifier, said very clearly: "Mamas silly."

Both women stared at her.

"Did she just—"

"She called us silly."

"She's not wrong."

"She's definitely not wrong."

Y/N, satisfied that she had made her point, went back to playing. But Caitlin could swear she saw a little smirk around the edges of that pacifier.

"We're in so much trouble when she gets older," Katie said.

"We're in trouble now."

"Fair point."

And somewhere in the house, in a location known only to Y/N McCabe-Foord, sat at least three more hidden pacifiers, strategically placed for future emergencies.

After all, she might be small, but she wasn't stupid. And she had learned from the best – two of the most stubborn women in North London.

The apple, as they say, doesn't fall far from the tree.

Even when the tree is a couple of professional footballers who can't outsmart a toddler with a dummy obsession.

The breaking point came on day five, when they had to bring Y/N to Arsenal training.

"She'll be fine," Katie said as they walked toward the training ground. "She loves the girls."

"She loves headbutting the girls," Caitlin corrected. "And she's been pacifier-free for two hours. She's like a tiny ticking time bomb."

Y/N was currently in Caitlin's arms, looking around with the sharp-eyed intensity of someone conducting surveillance. She had been unusually quiet during the car ride, which both women knew was never a good sign.

"Maybe the change of scenery will distract her," Katie suggested hopefully.

"Or maybe she'll take out her pacifier frustration on the entire squad."

"They can handle it. They're professional athletes."

"They're professional athletes, not tiny-person therapists."

As if summoned by their conversation, Leah appeared in the parking lot. "Please tell me you've sorted out the headbutting situation," she called out.

"We're working on it," Caitlin replied.

"Working on what now?" Leah asked, getting closer.

"The pacifier situation," Katie explained. "We're weaning her off it."

"And how's that going?"

Y/N chose that moment to answer for herself. "DUMMY!" she shrieked, loud enough to echo across the car park. "WHERE DUMMY?"

"About as well as you'd expect," Caitlin said.

Leah winced. "Right. Well, good luck with that."

As soon as they entered the training facility, Y/N seemed to perk up. She looked around at all the familiar faces, taking inventory.

"Bang bang?" she asked hopefully, spotting Alessia stretching nearby.

"No bang bang today," Caitlin said firmly. "Gentle touches only."

Y/N considered this restriction, then suddenly let out another ear-piercing wail. "DUMMY! WANT DUMMY!"

The entire training session stopped. Every player on the pitch turned to stare at the source of the commotion.

"Bloody hell," Beth said, jogging over. "What's wrong with her?"

"Pacifier withdrawal," Katie explained. "She's not taking it well."

"How long has this been going on?"

"Five days."

"And she's been screaming the whole time?"

"Not the whole time," Caitlin said defensively. "Just... most of it."

Y/N, apparently deciding that she wasn't getting enough attention, escalated her protests. She began the full-body tantrum routine, complete with throwing herself dramatically to the ground and kicking her legs.

"She's really committed to this performance," Kyra observed, approaching cautiously.

"DUMMY! DUMMY! DUMMY!" Y/N chanted between sobs.

"Maybe we should—" Katie started.

"No," Caitlin said firmly. "We're not giving in. Not in front of the team."

"But she's really upset."

"She's manipulating us. Look at her – she's checking to see if we're watching."

Sure enough, Y/N paused her tantrum long enough to peek at her parents through her fingers, then resumed wailing with renewed intensity when she saw they weren't immediately producing a pacifier.

"She's good," Lia said admiringly. "Very dramatic."

"She gets that from Katie," Caitlin said.

"I am not dramatic!"

"You once cried because we ran out of your favorite cereal."

"It was limited edition!"

Y/N, apparently bored with the tantrum approach, decided to try a different tactic. She stopped crying abruptly, stood up, and looked around at all the Arsenal players with calculation in her eyes.

"Oh no," Caitlin said, recognizing that look. "She's planning something."

"Planning what?"

Y/N's gaze settled on Renee, who was standing with her back to the group, clipboard in hand, completely oblivious to the drama unfolding behind her.

"She wouldn't," Katie said.

"She absolutely would."

Y/N took off at a dead run, her little legs pumping with determination. But instead of her usual headbutting charge, she wrapped herself around Renee's leg and began wailing directly into her knee.

"DUMMY! NEED DUMMY! HELP!"

Renee looked down in complete bewilderment at the tiny person attached to her leg, crying as if her heart was breaking.

"Um," Renee said, looking helplessly at the team. "What do I...?"

"She wants her pacifier," Caitlin explained, hurrying over to extract her daughter. "We're trying to wean her off it."

"I see," Renee said, though her expression suggested she didn't see at all. "And she's... asking me for help?"

"She's trying to recruit allies," Katie said. "She's very strategic."

Y/N, realizing that Renee wasn't immediately producing a pacifier, moved on to her next target: Kim, who was tying her bootlaces and therefore at Y/N's eye level.

"DUMMY!" Y/N announced, grabbing Kim's face with both hands. "NEED DUMMY!"

"I don't have a dummy, little one," Kim said gently, trying to pry Y/N's hands off her cheeks.

"GET DUMMY!" Y/N demanded. "PLEASE DUMMY!"

"She's learned to say please," Katie observed. "That's progress."

"She's learned to manipulate people with politeness," Caitlin corrected. "That's terrifying."

Y/N had moved on to Steph, who was sitting on the ground stretching. "DUMMY PLEASE!" she said, climbing directly into Steph's lap uninvited.

"Sorry, mate," Steph said, looking genuinely apologetic. "I don't have what you're looking for."

Y/N's face crumpled. Not getting the desired result from her charm offensive, she decided to return to her tried-and-true method: headbutting.

She stood up in Steph's lap, took aim, and delivered a solid headbutt to Steph's shoulder.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"DUMMY!" Y/N explained, as if this made perfect sense.

"She's stress-headbutting again," Katie said. "This is new behavior."

"No, this is established behavior," Caitlin said tiredly. "She just usually reserves it for furniture."

Y/N had apparently decided that if one headbutt didn't work, multiple headbutts might be more effective. She began working her way through the team systematically, delivering targeted headbutts while chanting "DUMMY! DUMMY! DUMMY!"

"This is like a tiny, angry pinball machine," Beth said, dodging Y/N's charge.

"A pinball machine with very specific demands," Viv added, also stepping out of range.

"Should we do something?" Alessia asked, watching Y/N bounce between players like she was conducting some sort of military operation.

"Like what?" Caitlin asked, chasing after her daughter. "She's immune to reason."

"We could give her the pacifier," Katie suggested hopefully.

"Absolutely not. We've come too far to give up now."

"We've come five days," Katie pointed out. "And she's getting worse, not better."

Y/N, having apparently exhausted the individual approach, decided to address the group collectively. She stood in the middle of the pitch and began what could only be described as a speech.

"DUMMY GONE!" she announced, tears streaming down her face. "MAMAS BAD! DUMMY COME BACK!"

"She's giving a presentation," Kyra said, impressed. "With key points and everything."

"HELP FIND DUMMY!" Y/N continued, pointing at various players. "PLEASE HELP!"

"She's trying to organize a search party," Leah observed. "That's actually quite clever."

"Don't encourage her tactical thinking," Caitlin said, finally catching up to Y/N and scooping her up.

"NO!" Y/N struggled in her mother's arms. "DOWN! FIND DUMMY!"

"There's no dummy to find, sweetheart. Remember? You're a big girl now."

"NOT BIG! BABY! BABY NEED DUMMY!"

"Oh, now she's claiming to be a baby again," Katie said. "She's really pulling out all the stops."

Y/N's struggles intensified, and she managed to land a solid headbutt to Caitlin's collarbone.

"Ow! Y/N, gentle touches!"

"DUMMY TOUCHES!" Y/N replied, which didn't make any sense but was delivered with such conviction that several players nodded sympathetically.

"Right," Renee said, stepping forward. "Perhaps we should take a short break?"

"No, no," Caitlin said quickly. "Don't change your training schedule for us. We'll figure this out."

"DUMMY FIGURE OUT!" Y/N contributed helpfully.

"She's got a point," Beth said. "Maybe the dummy could figure this out."

"Don't encourage her," Caitlin warned.

Y/N, sensing a potential ally in Beth, immediately reached for her. "BETH HELP! BETH FIND DUMMY!"

"Sorry, little warrior," Beth said, but she was grinning. "I'm not authorized for dummy-finding missions."

"WHO AUTHORIZED?" Y/N asked with perfect diction.

The entire team stared at her.

"Did she just ask about authorization protocols?" Lia asked.

"She's very advanced," Katie said proudly.

"She's twenty months old!"

"A very advanced twenty months old."

Y/N, apparently deciding that if she couldn't get help finding her pacifier, she would create her own entertainment. She began headbutting her way out of Caitlin's arms, using her mother as a launching pad to aim for nearby players.

"She's weaponizing herself," Steph said, stepping back as Y/N narrowly missed her.

"She's been weaponized since birth," Katie said. "We just didn't realize it at the time."

Y/N managed to escape and immediately charged toward the goal, clearly planning to headbutt the goalpost in frustration.

"Y/N, no!" both parents shouted in unison.

But Y/N was determined. She picked up speed, lowered her head, and was about to make contact when Manuela appeared seemingly out of nowhere, scooped Y/N up, and redirected her momentum harmlessly.

"Nice save," Leah called out.

"Goalkeeper instincts," Manuela explained, settling Y/N on her hip. "Always protect the goal."

Y/N looked up at Manuela with newfound respect. "GOOD CATCH!"

"Thank you. Now, what's all this about a dummy?"

"DUMMY GONE," Y/N explained sadly. "MAMAS HIDE DUMMY."

"I see. And you're not happy about this?"

"NOT HAPPY. VERY SAD."

"That does sound very sad," Manuela agreed seriously. "But maybe your mamas have a good reason?"

Y/N considered this. "NO GOOD REASON. DUMMY GOOD."

"Dummy is good for babies," Manuela said. "But you're getting to be a big girl."

"NO BIG GIRL. BABY."

"You seem pretty big to me. You can walk, and talk, and... what else can you do?"

"BANG BANG!" Y/N said proudly, demonstrating with a gentle headbutt to Manuela's shoulder.

"Very impressive bang bang. That's definitely big girl behavior."

Y/N looked thoughtful. "Big girl bang bang?"

"Very big girl bang bang."

"Big girl no dummy?"

"Big girls don't usually need dummies."

Y/N sighed heavily, a sound far too world-weary for someone who hadn't reached her second birthday. "Big girl hard."

"Being big is hard sometimes," Manuela agreed. "But big girls get to do lots of fun things that babies can't do."

"Like what?"

"Like play football with the big girls."

Y/N's eyes lit up. "FOOTBALL?"

And just like that, the Great Pacifier Crisis was temporarily forgotten as Y/N became completely absorbed in the prospect of playing football with her favorite people.

"That was brilliant," Caitlin said to Manuela quietly. "How did you know what to say?"

"I have nieces," Manuela replied. "And sometimes they just need someone to take them seriously."

"FOOTBALL NOW!" Y/N announced, wiggling to be put down.

"Alright," Manuela said, setting her down. "But remember – big girl football means gentle touches, not bang bang touches."

"Gentle touches," Y/N repeated solemnly, as if making a sacred vow.

For the next twenty minutes, Y/N was the picture of contentment, running around with a small football, occasionally passing it to various players, and only attempting to headbutt it twice.

"This is the longest she's gone without asking for her dummy," Katie whispered to Caitlin.

"Don't jinx it."

"I'm just saying, maybe distraction is the key."

"Or maybe Manuela is magic."

"Could be both."

Y/N had successfully kicked the ball to Kyra and was clapping proudly. "BIG GIRL FOOTBALL!"

"Yes, very good big girl football," Kyra agreed, passing the ball back gently.

But as the training session began to wind down, Y/N seemed to remember her mission. She stopped mid-kick and looked around with growing concern.

"DUMMY?" she asked, as if she had just remembered she was supposed to be upset about something.

"Oh no," Caitlin said. "Here we go again."

"Wait," Katie said. "Look at her."

Y/N was looking around the pitch, but instead of launching into another tantrum, she seemed to be thinking. She walked over to Manuela and tugged on her shorts.

"Big girl no dummy?" she asked.

"That's right. Big girls don't need dummies."

Y/N nodded thoughtfully. "Y/N big girl."

"You are definitely a big girl."

"Big girl football."

"Very good football."

Y/N seemed to wrestle with this concept for a moment, then made what appeared to be a executive decision. "Okay. No dummy."

Both parents froze.

"Did she just—" Katie started.

"Accept it?" Caitlin finished. "I think she did."

"BIG GIRL Y/N!" Y/N announced to the team at large. "NO DUMMY BIG GIRL!"

A cheer went up from the Arsenal squad.

"Well done, Y/N!" Leah called out.

"Very proud of you!" Beth added.

Y/N beamed at the praise, then toddled over to the nearest football and gave it a gentle kick instead of her usual headbutt.

"Gentle touches," she said proudly.

"She's really doing it," Caitlin said in amazement.

"Don't celebrate yet," Katie warned. "Remember, she's strategic. This could be a long con."

But Y/N seemed genuinely content. She spent the rest of the session playing with her football, occasionally announcing "BIG GIRL!" to anyone who would listen, and showing remarkable restraint in her headbutting impulses.

As they packed up to leave, Y/N walked over to Manuela and held up her arms to be picked up.

"Thank you football," she said seriously.

"You're very welcome, big girl."

"Big girl no cry dummy?"

"Big girls can cry sometimes," Manuela said gently. "But they don't need dummies to feel better."

Y/N nodded solemnly. "Y/N strong big girl."

"Very strong big girl," Manuela agreed, giving her a gentle hug.

As they walked to the car, Y/N maintained her newfound maturity for exactly thirty-seven seconds before spotting a pigeon in the parking lot and immediately reverting to form.

"BANG BANG BIRD!" she announced, breaking free from Katie's hand and charging toward the unsuspecting pigeon.

"And we're back," Caitlin sighed, chasing after her daughter.

"At least she's not asking for her dummy," Katie pointed out.

"Small victories."

The ride home was blissfully peaceful. Y/N sat in her car seat, occasionally announcing "Big girl no dummy!" to herself with obvious pride. She seemed to have genuinely internalized the concept, which both parents found equal parts impressive and suspicious.

"It can't be this easy," Caitlin said quietly.

"Maybe it can. Maybe we just needed the right approach."

"The right approach being professional footballers peer-pressuring our toddler?"

"Whatever works. We owe Manuela a gift card or something as a thanks,"

Y/N had fallen asleep in her car seat, and for the first time in five days, she wasn't clutching desperately at her clothes or making small sucking motions with her mouth. She just looked like a normal, peaceful baby.

"She really has given it up," Katie said in amazement.

"Don't say that out loud. She might hear you."

"She's asleep."

"She has supernatural hearing when it comes to dummy-related conversations."

As if to prove Caitlin's point, Y/N stirred slightly and mumbled, "Big girl," before settling back into sleep.

"Even in her sleep, she's reminding herself," Katie observed.

"She's very determined when she sets her mind to something."

"She gets that from both of us."

"The determination, yes. The ability to mobilize an entire football team to achieve her goals... that's all her."

The evening routine went surprisingly smoothly. Y/N had a bath without demanding her dummy, ate dinner while only mentioning being a "big girl" fourteen times, and even let them brush her teeth without the usual battle.

"This is too easy," Caitlin said as they got Y/N ready for bed. "Something's going to go wrong."

"Maybe nothing will go wrong. Maybe she's actually ready to give it up."

"She spent five days in a state of near-constant rage, Katie. People don't just suddenly become ready."

"She's not people. She's Y/N."

"Exactly. Which is why I'm worried."

Y/N was sitting on her bed in her pajamas, looking thoughtful. "Mamas," she said seriously, "Y/N big girl now."

"Yes, sweetheart, you are," Caitlin said, sitting beside her.

"Big girls sleep no dummy?"

"That's right."

"Big girls strong?"

"Very strong."

Y/N nodded solemnly. "Okay. Y/N try."

"You're being so brave," Katie said, joining them on the bed.

"Brave big girl," Y/N agreed.

They went through their usual bedtime routine – story time, cuddles, and gentle conversation about the day. Y/N seemed calm and content, occasionally reminding herself that she was a big girl now.

"Night night, big girl," Caitlin said, giving her a kiss.

"Night night, Mama. Y/N sleep big girl style."

"What's big girl style?" Katie asked, amused.

"No dummy, no cry, no bang bang bed."

"Those are very good big girl rules."

"Y/N make rules."

"Very sensible rules."

They turned off the light and closed the door, both holding their breath.

"How long do you think we have?" Katie whispered as they walked down the hallway.

"Maybe ten minutes before she realizes what she's agreed to."

"I'm betting five."

They made it exactly three minutes before they heard the first tentative call: "Mamas?"

"Here we go," Caitlin sighed.

"Y/N big girl!" came the slightly less confident voice from the bedroom.

"Yes, you are!" Katie called back.

"Big girls... big girls sleep alone?"

"Yes, big girls can sleep all by themselves."

There was a long pause, then: "Y/N maybe small big girl?"

Both women grinned despite themselves.

"You're exactly the right size big girl," Caitlin called back.

Another pause. "Small big girls need... need cuddles?"

"Small big girls can definitely have cuddles."

The bedroom door opened, and Y/N appeared, clutching her stuffed elephant. "Cuddle please?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

She climbed into bed between them, still maintaining her dignity. "Y/N sleep with mamas tonight. Big girl cuddles."

"Big girl cuddles sound perfect," Katie said, making room.

Y/N settled between them with a satisfied sigh. "Tomorrow Y/N sleep big girl bed. Tonight... practice cuddles."

"Practice cuddles are very important," Caitlin agreed.

"Very important," Y/N repeated sleepily.

Within minutes, she was fast asleep, one small hand clutching her elephant, the other resting on Katie's arm. She looked peaceful and content, and most importantly, she wasn't asking for her dummy.

"She did it," Katie whispered.

"She really did."

"Our little warrior conquered her first real challenge."

"With help from half the Arsenal squad."

"She's very good at recruiting allies."

"She's going to be trouble when she's older."

"She's trouble now."

"Good trouble though."

"The best kind of trouble."

Y/N stirred in her sleep and mumbled something that sounded like "big girl football."

"Even her dreams have evolved," Caitlin said softly.

"From dummy dreams to football dreams."

"That's definitely progress."

"Arsenal better watch out. In fifteen years, she'll be running that team."

"In fifteen years? She's practically running it now."

Y/N sighed contentedly and snuggled closer to Katie. For once, she looked like exactly what she was – a small child who had accomplished something difficult and was proud of herself.

"We did good," Katie said.

"She did good. We just survived."

"Same thing."

"Not really, but I'll take it."

And in the morning, Y/N woke up and, after a moment of confusion, announced proudly: "Y/N did it! Big girl sleep!"

She had indeed done it. No dummy, no midnight wake-ups demanding it, no tears or tantrums. Just a small person who had decided she was ready to grow up a little bit.

The headbutting, of course, continued unabated. But one battle at a time.

After all, she was still Y/N McCord – big girl status didn't change her fundamental approach to problem-solving.

Some things, Katie and Caitlin were learning, were just part of who she was.

And they wouldn't have it any other way.

Epilogue: Three Weeks Later

"She hasn't asked for it once," Caitlin marveled, watching Y/N play contentedly with her blocks.

"I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop," Katie admitted.

"Maybe there is no other shoe. Maybe she really has moved on."

Y/N looked up from her blocks and grinned at them. "Mamas watch! Big girl tower!"

She had built an impressively tall tower of blocks and was clearly proud of her architectural achievement.

"Very good tower," Katie said.

"Big girl tower," Y/N corrected. "Now... BANG BANG TOWER!"

And with that, she delivered a perfectly executed headbutt to her creation, sending blocks flying in all directions.

"Some things never change," Caitlin laughed.

"Thank god," Katie said. "I was starting to worry she was getting too mature."

Y/N stood in the wreckage of her tower, arms raised in victory. "Big girl bang bang!"

"Yes, very impressive big girl bang bang."

"Y/N build again?"

"Of course you can build again."

As Y/N began reconstructing her tower, presumably for the sole purpose of destroying it again, both women reflected on how far they'd all come.

The dummy was gone, but Y/N was still fundamentally herself – determined, strategic, and absolutely convinced that headbutting was a valid solution to most of life's problems.

"Do you miss it?" Katie asked. "The dummy days?"

"The screaming and crying and constant negotiation?"

"The simplicity of it. When her biggest problem was whether or not she could have her pacifier."

Caitlin considered this. "No, I think I prefer big girl Y/N. She's more interesting."

"More challenging."

"More everything."

Y/N had finished rebuilding her tower and was now studying it with the intensity of an engineer checking structural integrity.

"Perfect tower," she announced. "Ready for bang bang."

"Are you sure?" Caitlin asked. "It's a very nice tower."

Y/N looked at her like she'd asked the most ridiculous question in the world. "Tower for bang bang, Mama. That's the point."

"Of course it is."

And with that wisdom from their newly minted big girl, Y/N launched herself at the tower with the enthusiasm of someone who had found her true calling in life.

Some battles were worth fighting. Others, apparently, were just part of accepting who your child was meant to be.

The dummy war was over.

The headbutting war, it seemed, would continue indefinitely.

And honestly? They were okay with that.

The soft afternoon light filtered through the living room windows as Katie bounced gently on her feet, her daughter Y/N's arms wrapped tightly around her neck like a tiny koala bear. Every time she tried to ease into the armchair, those chubby fingers would grip tighter, and a warning whimper would escape from the bundle pressed against her shoulder.

"She's been like this for three days straight," Katie murmured to Caitlin, who was hovering nearby with a cup of tea that had gone cold hours ago. "I love our little barnacle, but my back can't take much more of this."

Caitlin reached out to stroke Y/N's wispy hair. "Let me try again—"

"No!" came the immediate, indignant cry as Y/N somehow sensed the impending transfer. Her grip tightened even more possessively on Katie's t-shirt.

"Okay, okay, you're staying right here," Katie soothed, swaying again. She caught Caitlin's sympathetic look. "At least she's consistent. Equal opportunity velcro baby—she does this to you too."

"Yesterday she cried when I tried to put her down for two seconds to get her sippy cup," Caitlin laughed softly. "Had to hop around the kitchen one-handed like some sort of demented flamingo."

Y/N finally lifted her head, revealing tear-streaked, rosy cheeks and the most determined expression a one-year-old could muster. She looked between her mothers as if checking that neither was planning any sudden moves toward independence.

"Mama," she said firmly, then "Mam," patting each of them in turn before settling back into Katie's neck with a satisfied sigh.

Katie and Caitlin exchanged a look of exhausted adoration. This phase would pass—they both knew that. But for now, they were learning to drink coffee one-handed, eat meals standing up, and take turns being the world's most beloved human jungle gym.

"Worth it though," Katie whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of Y/N's head as their little velcro baby finally began to doze, still clinging with an iron grip to her mam's shirt.

******

By evening, they'd managed to develop a system. Katie would hold Y/N while Caitlin prepared dinner, then they'd carefully orchestrate a transfer during bath time—the only activity that seemed to momentarily distract their little one from her mission of attaching herself to one of her moms and holding on as if her life depended on it.

"She actually let me wash her hair without screaming," Caitlin marveled, gently rinsing soap from Y/N's curls as the baby splashed contentedly in the warm water.

"Don't get too excited," Katie warned from her position kneeling beside the tub. "She's probably just planning her next clinging maneuver."

As if summoned by her words, Y/N's bottom lip began to wobble the moment Caitlin reached for the hooded duck towel. By the time they had her dried and dressed in a pair of Arsenal footie pajamas, she was making desperate grabbing motions toward whichever parent was closest.

"My turn," Caitlin said, scooping up their daughter before Katie's arms could give out completely. Y/N immediately melted into her, tiny fist bunching in Caitlin's hoodie.

They'd tried everything their friends and the internet had suggested—putting her down while she was distracted, gradually increasing the distance, even the old "leave something that smells like you" trick. Nothing worked. Y/N had developed an uncanny sixth sense for detecting when she was being left alone, even when it was just long enough for a bathroom break or to grab a drink of water.

"Remember when we worried she wasn't attached enough?" Katie asked, settling onto the couch with a groan as her back muscles finally relaxed. "When she was perfectly content to play independently for hours?"

"That was literally two weeks ago," Caitlin laughed, swaying gently as Y/N fought sleep with the determination of someone who knew that sleeping meant potentially missing out on precious snuggle time.

"I canceled the sitter," Katie admitted quietly. "We can just bring her with us to practice. I can't bear the thought of leaving her when she's like this. She'll think we've abandoned her."

"Well then, training's going to be interesting," Caitlin murmured. "I'm pretty sure the team's going to have some commentary about me showing up with a baby attached to my hip."

"Mama... Mam..." Y/N mumbled sleepily, her grip loosening just slightly as exhaustion finally won out.

They sat in comfortable silence, taking turns rubbing Y/N's back as she settled deeper into sleep. The house felt different during this phase—quieter in some ways, more intense in others. Every moment was shared, every task required negotiation with a tiny yet stubborn dictator who had very strong opinions about her moms having any personal space.

"She's going to be so independent when this phase ends," Katie said softly. "It's like she's storing up all our love for when she's ready to explore the world."

"Good thing we have plenty to give," Caitlin replied, finally managing to ease into the rocking chair without disturbing their sleeping daughter. "Even if our backs may not survive it."

Outside, the evening settled into dusk, and for the first time in days, both mothers felt a moment of peace—not because their velcro baby had finally been set down, but because they'd found a way to hold her that felt sustainable, at least for tonight.