And I don’t mean a part-time, occasional, periodic bellyacher, I mean a chronic, unceasing, will-you-please-lock-yourself-in-your-bedroom-until-the-end-of-this-millennium sourpuss.
He’s not the only one. Whining is highly contagious in our house, and when one child starts, it sparks a Whine Fest. I have literally run away from my whiny brood, contorting my face to mimic their nasty complaints as they trail behind, the decibels increasing the further ahead of them I get. You’d think only dolphins or humpback whales would be able to hear them.
My favorite of their complaints include:
- You must hate me to make me do chores.
- You’re the worst mom I’ve ever had.
- Why are you always bossing me around?
- If you really loved me you’d let me eat more marshmallows.
- You’re the only mom in the world that makes her kids do X.
- I want another mom. A nice one this time.
I blame some of my bad parenting tactics on the fact that I’m the only adult in the house. And being a freelance writer, I can go days without any adult interaction.
Things get ugly when you’re outnumbered by three children. I can spar with the best of them. Of course, I sound like a six-year old myself when doing it. I say things like, “No, YOU!” and “Whatever!”
This past week I tried to take a more enlightened approach. In my efforts to better apply the Law of Attraction I’ve been trying to vibrate at a higher frequency. The better the emotion the higher the vibration.
So when Sport began complaining on Friday I said, “You’re vibrating at a very low frequency, Mister!” You can imagine he changed his attitude immediately. Okay, so that’s not true. He looked at me like I’d sprouted a second head.
No matter. At least I know that as a seasoned whiner he has a solid career ahead of him.
He could offer political commentary.
Or maybe become a blogger, like his mama.