Whine-asaurus Rex

Is it the changing season?  The change in household routine?  The fact that Granddaddy was here last weekend?  Or is it just a function of being four years old?

I don’t have the answer, but what I do have is a Whine-asaurus Rex.  There are days when parenthood is like a Fisher Price commercial, full of laughter and fun and exploration…  Those have been in the minority this week.

Can I just tell you, I got schooled by my four year old?  Tuesday night was supposed to be B’s tri-weekly bath, but we were at loggerheads from the minute I walked in the door – arguing over dinner, arguing over how many more clock ‘projects’ we would do before bath time, and then finally arguing over whether or not he would get into the bath at all:

Ok, Daddy’s got the bath ready. Let’s get your clothes off.



No. I don’t want to take a bath.

Well, it’s bath time.


You don’t get to say no! It’s bath time! 


B, you need a bath. Look, you can either take your bath and then we can snuggle and read a book before bedtime, or you can just go straight to bed. But daddy drew you a nice bubble bath, so why don’t we have a little bath?

I’m going to bed. Goodnight.{grabs Ellie off of the couch and takes off}


I certainly learned a valuable lesson from this exchange: Don’t give the kid choices.  Also, possibly, yell more.


This morning started off pleasant, but quickly devolved into an experience akin to wresting an angry porcupine.  I don’t even know what sets it off – we were fine until I made him put on his backpack for the walk to the car.  This is, apparently, an entirely unreasonable request.  Then we had to stop, repeatedly, to scratch itches.  In order to scratch an itch, one must whine, scream, possibly throw things (and oneself) to the ground, prior to actually scratching the itch.  (Note to self – moisturize after bath time tonight.)

And then when we get to school, like magic, everything is fine and he’s ready to begin his day.

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