The Cure for the Common Whine

Becks is going through this awful whining stage right now.  Not crying, just whining over absolutely everything.  We mention bedtime and he's whining.  We tell him he needs to eat another bite of dinner and he's whining.  We look at him the wrong way and he's whining.  It's like having a toddler with PMS.

And the sound.  Oh, the sound.  I can compare it to nothing short of a dinosaur dying a slow and painful death.  And what it does to my nerves is comprable to scraping my brain across a cheese grater.  As Ross King {one of my favorite children's nusicians} says, No one likes to hear the sound of whining.  Whining makes you want to plug your ears and run away.  Except, the only place I can run is the next room.  And the little dinosaur follows me repeating Erghhhhhh.  Erghhhhh.  Erghhhhh. until my ears are bleeding.

Do I sound a little dramatic?  Then you have obviously never raised a 2-year-old.

So, tonight, when I couldn't take the repetivie drone any longer {B is at a night class}, I curled up in bed and hoped he'd settle for snuggle time and an impromptu photo shoot instead.  Because who can whine when you're desperate mom turns over her beloved camera to you and let's you snap silly pictures of her? 

And then, just to ensure that the whining was kept to a bare minimum, I let him do just what the doctor in the jumping monkeys song says not to do.  Yup.  You have yourself some Grade A bed jumping here. 

Now he's in bed.  Thankfully not whining.  And I'm eating my 2nd chocolate cookie to compensate for the whining and a long day.  I use the term 2nd loosely, as I already ate one and 1/2 of Becks left over after dinner.  I give you, the cure for the common whine...

YUM.