Scene: my lovely, warm bed that I had to leave altogether too many times in the night.
Time: 7:14 am
Down the hall, a door squeaks open. Whimpering is heard. Little footsteps come down the hall. More whimpering.
"Mama, I need juice." Whining. "Mama, geeup." Whining. "I need ceeral." Whining.
That is how my days have been starting lately. With the dreaded door squeak and the cursed whining. I coulnd't take it anymore. So, yesterday we went to timeout with every second whine. And when I say "we" I mean "Sabrina." I usually gave her one chance to say it again in non-whiny voice, and guess what? She was so happy all day long. It's like, when she's forced to sound happy, she is happy. That's a lesson I need to take to heart.