Something to whine about.

Do you want to know why my son is whining?

Here’s why, in chronological order:

7 am: He woke up and wants the lights off, so he can play night time.

7:20: He doesn’t want the oatmeal he asked for.

7:30: He hates oatmeal.

7:45: His oatmeal is cold.

8: He’s full.

8:20: He doesn’t want *those* airplane underpants.

8:30: His pants are too soft.

9:00 – 10:00 Sesame Street (Hey, don’t judge. I’m not at a bar. Yet.)

10:15 He wants to pick up the cups from the floor with his feet.

10:16He can’t reach the floor (screamed from his position lying on the floor.)

11:00 He dropped his favorite toy behind his bed.

11:10 Again.

11:15 And once more.

12:00 He wants to use a big spoon to eat yogurt.

12:05 He has yogurt all over his shirt.

12:10 He hates cheese. Except string cheese. And parmesan. And mozzarella.

(On our way to pick up his older brother.)

3:10 He doesn’t want to go up 9th Avenue.

(We procure older brother and start for home.)

3:15 He doesn’t want to go down 8th Avenue. He wants to go down 9th Avenue.

3:20 He wants to stop in the playground. (It’s 30 degrees and he’s wearing a spring jacket.)

3:25 He’s cold.

3:30 He wants to be the first and the second one up the stairs.

(Sainted mother in law comes over to babysit. I deny that these are even my children. Instead, I blame her son and the devil for them. She stays anyway.

Two hours pass. I return largely sober. Sainted mother in law insists they were little angels the entire time I was away.)

5:30 He doesn’t have any bath toys. (We have hundreds).

5:32 He can’t find his bath toys in the bath tub.

5:33 There are too many bath toys in the tub. He has no room.

6:00 He doesn’t know what we are having for dinner. But he doesn’t like it.

6:15 He can’t set the table because he can’t carry a fork. It’s too pointy.

6:35 He wants more bread. But not the half-eaten piece on his plate. A new piece.

7:00 There are too many (i.e. six) toys to clean up.

7:30 He wants PJs that he saw in a picture of himself as a baby. (A 3-6 month sleep and play).

7:35 He doesn’t want to read the book he picked out. He hates it.

7:40 He wants to read that book again.

7:45 He desperately wants to sit in the dark and drink wine by himself.

WAIT. Sorry, that last one was me. Somehow, I must have started whining too. No idea how that happened. Well, you know where to find me. . . .

Beast Mode.

Beast Mode.

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2 Comments

Filed under Not cool, Mommy

2 responses to “Something to whine about.

  1. Pingback: No news is good news | The Fun Apartment

  2. Pingback: Firsts and Lasts | The Fun Apartment

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