The Not-Whining Grimace

I’ve said it before, but it’s true: It’s hard to be three. There are lots of things you can’t do. Some because your mama won’t let you. Some because your fine motor skills and problem solving abilities aren’t quite fully developed. Either way, it’s very frustrating.

The best solution (like, obviously) is to whine until the laws of physics change or your mother loses her mind, whichever comes first.

Elias has run into a problem with this plan. For reasons he cannot comprehend, whining lands him either in an early nap or a time out. I prefer and require (almost always; nobody’s perfect) that requests be pleasant and surrounded by words like “please” and “thank you.” (Somebody said in a quote I cannot Google up right now that good manners are grease in the engine of society, and I agree.)

So, very slowly, our little brown bear is learning to control his shrieking and ask for things using polite words. And he’s somehow gotten it in to his head that he should be smiling when he does so. But often he can’t quite muster up a real one. So he does this, and speaks through his teeth.

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PLEASEMAMAMAYYOUHELPMEWITHTHIS?

Cracks me up. And hey … he’s not whining!

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