He said “no whining.” I said “I’m not whining.” I was.

This morning, Daddy reminded me of the “no whining” rule.
I might’ve replied with a little sigh.
And a pout.
And maybe a dramatic flop on the bed.

He raised an eyebrow.
I raised both.
(We were communicating.)

So now, I have to write down three things I’m grateful for. Every time I want to whine.
In pink gel pen.
In my “Attitude Adjustment” notebook.
(It has glitter.)

I rolled my eyes. I even stuck out my tongue.
He kissed my forehead and said,
“Better use that tongue for something sweeter.”

So now I’m sitting cross-legged, writing:
1. Daddy made me oatmeal.
2. Daddy gave me forehead kisses.
3. Daddy didn’t spank me.
…yet.