Hopefully, y’all know by know that I’ve got four boys and a little girl at the caboose. I’m nuts about her. She’s my little movie buddy, my accomplice in my chocolate chip heists, and a very passionate shopping consultant.
“Buy it,” is what she always tells me, and no, Captain, I do not always listen to her.
I’m not used to the whining.
I’m used to banging, thumping, walloping, squawking, jumping, kicking, flying, pinching, stomping, tackling, denting, yelling, thudding, crashing, and throwing, but I’m not used to whining.
I’m not used to the constant talking either. For all the noise the boys make, it turns out that they don’t have much to say. I’m listening to Deborah’s chatter right now. She’s kind of singing a two way conversation.
“You are a beautiful princess.”
“Yes I am and now I am flying.” (Believe me, princess is the way to go.)
“But don’t call people stupid.”
“Yes, I can.” (Princesses can do whatever they darn well please.) Bishop Neff, the “darn” is for you. Good thing you’re keeping your eye on me once in a while.
“No, you can’t call people stupid.” This conversation goes on forever with no signs of any resolution.
The little chatter I love. The whining not so much. It’s seriously worse than chalk board scratching, the droning of the emergency broadcast system, or our ultra sensitive fire alarm. (I’m not burning the tortillas, ok? They’re only black in a few places.) It amazes me how many times Deborah can cry for a cookie, for her crayons, or for Super Why over and over again no matter how many times I tell her “no.”
I also just figured something out. When she and I are alone, she never whines. Even if I’m on the computer or doing laundry or cleaning the kitchen, she seems perfectly happy to just hang out by me and entertain herself. Her little imagination is quite fertile and her soft voice is just divine.
Perhaps her whining is just her way of asserting herself, reminding me of her existence when there is a lot of commotion and noise.
Last night I was reading To Kill a Mockingbird with Ben, and Deborah would not stop whining. I finally sat her on my lap and said, “I’m almost done with Ben Time, and then it will be your turn for Deborah Time. Why don’t you start thinking about what we’re going to do together?” She ran out the door and came back with her paper doll sticker set, then sat by me on the couch and dressed her dolls. I told her we needed to send our monthly letter to our Cambodian orphan friend (another story), and she was so sweet about it. I told her that our little friend didn’t have a mommy or daddy or sister, and Deborah was more than happy to send her one of her cut out dolls and several of her outfits. My little whiner can be pretty generous, especially when I’m generous with my time.