Had Enough

In case you didn't know, Joey has an exceptional ability to whine.  

But I've said it before and I'll say it again: for the first six months of his life he was perfect.  I don't remember him ever really crying (not even that first just-entered-the-world-and-I'm-cold cry), we never had to pace the floor with him as you have to do with many newborns, he never seemed unhappy.  He slept, ate, slept and ate and was pretty content the rest of the time.  He was a perfect baby, and exactly what we needed as a fourth child.

He hit six months though and became a different story, pretty much till he could walk, which was a looooong year later.  Well, he was still a very contented baby when he was with me - I found him very, very easy - but if I left him he cried.  And cried.  And cried.  And didn't want to be left.  And I didn't do anything different with him than I did with the older three.

Anyway, when he could walk he became happier and finally he seemed to enjoy the nursery at church.  And then we moved here.  I, personally, still find him pretty perfect: while the older three are off at school he sits with me playing quietly while I get my nails done, happily helps me bag fruits and vegetables, sits contentedly while I swim (swam) laps, plays happily for hours when we are in the house, and even curls up and sleeps on a chair in my office when I'm at work.  He isn't often demanding, isn't often disobedient, and generally very contented.  When it's him and me.

But see when the others come back from school, or when the whole family is around, or when he's tired, boy what a different child.  WHINE-ER.  He can whine about everything.  EVERYTHING.  And then it turns into crying.  And crying.  And crying.  He repeats the same phrase over and over and over, yet doesn't do anything about his problem.  For example: "I neeed a tissssuuuuuueeeeee!  I neeeeeed a tissssuuueeeee.  IIII neeeed a tiiiiiiiiiiissuueeeeeee!!!!!!".  Well flamin' go and get a tissue - you know where they are, they're deliberately within arms reach, and if you REALLY are unable, just ask nicely.  Once.  Don't just stand there two meters from the tissue box and complain.  Or worse, walk away from the tissue box and walk around the house howling at me for one.

I get that it's probably personality, that he's not a very proactive child (we have another of those), that being the youngest he likes/expects/has always had, help, that I've not had a baby that I've been dealing with which means he's had to help himself.  But honestly, walking around the house for an hour whining that you can't put your pants on, rather than just sitting down and putting your pants on, or standing at the shoe bucket for half an hour complaining you can't find your shoes, instead of just looking down in to the bucket and seeing them sitting there right on top, drives me nuts.

Yesterday mid-morning I'd had enough of whatever it was so put him in the boy's bathroom, which meant there were two doors, a corridor, a stairway and another room between his whines and me.  Sometimes single parenting requires such measures.  Half an hour later I come down to the boy's room to start a mass Lego sorting and clearing exercise in preparation for moving, and eventually realise I can't hear Joey.  When I realise he is still in the bathroom (I don't know where I thought he was, but guess I forgot he was in there) I pop in and this is what I find:

Totally dead to the world.

His pillow and Kiwi don't normally reside in the bathroom, but his kind big sister gave in to his new-er whine (and probably also just wanted him to stop) and that was the result.  Bless him - I could eat him up he's so adorable.

As an addendum I should point out that he doesn't always whine when everyone else is around.  He is actually very good at playing with his siblings as well as other kids: he allowed Tiger to 'walk' him on his hands and knees over the cold hard tiles for almost an hour the other day while he was playing at being her puppy.  He was leashed round the waist and everything.