The Whine-O-Gram And Other Things


I dearly love summer. More importantly, I love the heat. Why? Because it reminds me of that sweet spot right before I hit my stride during a run. Wanna know a secret though? In the heat, small children turn into something resembling singing telegrams, except whinier. I call it the Whine-O-Gram.

For instance…

To Mommy: Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaater…. Waterwaterwaterwater! Love Littlest

To Mommy: Miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine… Love Littlest

To Mommy: I won’t be brave! Love Biggest

To Mommy: I want it. Love Biggest

To Mommy: No! Mine! You can’t have that. Don’t touch it! MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMY! Littlest took my car! Love Biggest

To Mommy: Mine! *sob* Biggest. Car. Mine!!! *wail* Love Littlest

And that is nothing in comparison to the general malaise that seems to come over both my children when they happen to be sitting on the same piece of furniture.

Biggest: *takes up as much space as possible by doing a better version of the splits than most women can*

Littlest: *sits as close to Biggest’s leg as possible to remind Biggest that he has two couch cushions and is choosing to sit on the one closest to Biggest’s territory*

Biggest: *shoves Littlest*

Littlest: *sits on Biggest’s foot*

Biggest: *gets angry at Littlest*

Littlest: *gets angry at Biggest*

Mommy: *being the sole inhabitant of a piece of couch cushion resembling the width of a dollar bill, and, being elbowed, kneed, and deafened by two small children…* That’s it! If you can’t sit nicely on the couch, then you can sit on the floor. NO! Not the same piece of floor! You know what, on second thought, you both can play quietly in your rooms while MOMMY watches the movie.

I am seriously appreciating last week’s upheaval, as the ease of fight resolution is astonishing when they simply exit Stage Left to their own space. Between the heat and settling into a new routine as the result of a change of scenery, however, I really am feeling as though I am starring in a rather odd drama. Who knew small boys could be so dramatic. Furthermore, it’s repeat drama as I’m sure I’ve said that more than once.

Right now though, it’s blissfully quiet, as the fighting has stopped long enough for the two of them to return to their adorable dormant phase. I’m sure it’s built in so you have a chance to remember that they’re not actually ninja-wannabes with a penchant for antagonization and subsequent blamelessness, and are, in fact, still those sweet little babies you welcomed into your life.

Now all that’s left to do is ponder why they seem to still be certain that their wants can outwit the stubbornness of a hot, tired, fed-up mother. One for the ages, I’m sure.

The Handler.

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