My dear sweet little Evan.
Max, for the most part, is a consistent, predictable, and happy boy. Evan is a roller coaster of emotion and, well, let's just say he whines.... A LOT. On this point, I am as nonfluctuating a parent as I know how to be. I say, "Evan, I don't understand you when you talk like that," or "Sure, I'll get that for you when you ask in a normal voice," or "Why are you whining? There is no reason to whine. I am here and happy to help you," and sometimes "EVAN STOP WHINING!" But I am sure, just as my nose no longer smells the dog odors of our home, and my eyes don't see the dilapidated kitchen, my ears no longer hear Evan's sad whiny tongue. Maybe I am not as consistent as I think I am.
Whatever the reason, I have not been able to stamp out the brain piercing tone. One day, out of complete frustration, exhaustion, and because I was tired of my other methods, I looked at him and began talking in my most whiny pathetic voice. It was not pretty. It surely was not effective. I hope I never go there again. I don't recommend it.
The whine emanates from the center of his little being and it as intensely a part of him as his contagious smile, lovable mushy face, and heartfelt joy. He is MY roller coaster.
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