Whinerectomies for Everyone!

It strikes me that one of life's pefect ironies lies in...well, lying.

As parents, we teach our kids to be truthful; fibbing is a huge no-no in our home. But we often shred stretch the truth ourselves. Much as I love the Tooth Fairy, Santa, and the Great Pumpkin, they are some of the most golden whoppers of childhood, aren't they?

And if you have a daughter who went through the play dress up and do her own play makeup stage, surely you've found yourself falling back to the comfortable social grace known as a little white lie?

Oh yes, honey, you look FABULOUS!*

Much as I wish I could be honest in all my conversations with my children, I often invoke Parental Privilege and use my fine imagination to creatively problem-solve.

Take whining. I hate it. It annoys me to no end. It never works; their wheedling ways never get them whatever they're jonesing for - yet they do it despite the twitching of my left eye and the rising note of impatience in my tone.

This innate ability to drive their mother to the edge of the kitchen cliff is truly a talent of my oldest and youngest. If Excellent Whiner Needed: Mega Bucks for Big Needling Naggers was a job posting, both Princess Pinky and Sir Screamsalot would be set for life.

Princess Pinky is mostly over her whiny years which dovetails nicely with Sir Screamsy's recent entry into the race for Chief Family Whiner. While it is lovely and funny and a blessing (yes, I do know this) to have a two year old that talks with the speech skills of a four year old, it gets old quick when he enters the Whine Zone.

And so, in sheer and utter self-defense (for I fear that my left eye may well just twitch itself out of my head), I warn him that if he can't stop his whining himself, I might just have to take him to the hospital to have his whiner taken out.

It works, but only for a while. For you see, the beauty of the Whine Zone is that there is always something, anything, worthy of whining about, such as:

*A ripped toenail

*The young dog

*The old dog

*The gummies hidden high in the pantry

*The popcorn is too hot

*Brother Tatertot sneezed too loudly

*A random, phantom itch

*The seam on the toe of his sock is crooked

You get my drift; in the Whine Zone, all is wrong. Horribly, terribly wrong.

And I, my mommyfolk et al friends, stand back, left eye twitching madly, and try to take a deep breath before I too succumb to whining, mommy-style.

Which is pretty much all this post is.

Which means it's time for me to get my own whinerectomy.

Thanks for reading! May your home remain a No Whine Zone!

*You and I both know that purple sequins, green spandex, and blue eyeshadow is not Fabulous! It is Tammy Faye Bakker.