I deal with my fair share of whining. Brady is an expert in the area and uses his ample time at home with me to practice his art. Phrases heard multiple times per day around here include:
“That’s NOT FAIR.”
“But I waaaaaaannnnnt (insert toy/sweets/television show here).”
“But he’s driiiiiiivving me craaaazzzzy.” (In reference to the Declan, of course.)
“Pleeeeeeassssse, pleeeeeeeeeeeease, (and on and on).”
And let’s not forget the ultimate – “You are SO MEAN!”
You can definitely hear me complaining about the whine level at my home on any given day. It is completely intolerable. What I don’t tell people though, is that I am the original whiner. Brady comes by his unsavory habit quite honestly. Not only can I vividly remember whining the very same things at my mother, but I whine to this very day. The usual victim of my griping is the husband, although my mother and sister have definitely heard my moans and groans over the phone enough as well.
In fact, I whine ABOUT Brady whining. It’s ridiculous. But the thing is , I like whining. Although I know how annoying it is, I still enjoy doing it myself. I’ll catch myself and stop and apologize, but only begrudgingly. Because I liiiiiiike it.
Perhaps I should remember this the next time Brady is complaining to me and give him a dose of his own medicine. Maybe he’ll think a little more before the next whine comes out of his mouth. But then again, maybe he’s really like me and he enjoys it just too much to stop entirely.