Winter Whining

tire Robby has been into whining lately. I understand. It's February. Who isn't whining?

But I've got a new house rule: No whining in the room I am in.

Fair enough. I probably should give others the same courtesy I'd like to have. Do unto others.

So Robby got lost in his whining a few days ago and I decided to give him some choices (control is what they want, so creating something for my two-year old to control and/or choose is always a fun on-the-spot challenge). "Robby, you may whine. But no whining in the kitchen. If you want to whine, you'll have to go on the couch in the Living Room. Or be all done with whining. You choose."

He stopped. Looked at me. Whimpered a little. (whimpering is a close relative to whining) And then asked: "What couch can I whine on, Momma?"

"Any couch you'd like out there, buddy."

He chose the brown, vintage one we reupholstered our first year of marriage. Comfy, cozy, well-placed for winter whining.

Where do you like to whine? (under the covers at 7:55am, personally)

Redemption later that day: Robby wanted to take me to the "Cucumber Shop."  Never been to one, so of course we had to go. We marched up to the playroom and he sat me down at the table. After we played Cucumber Shop he looked at me and said:

"Will you take me on a date, Momma?"

I melted right there in front of a mushy, drippy snowman.

[Dear God, Thank you for my wiggly, whiny, wonderful Gift. Amen. (Psalm 127)]