The whistle

For reasons that no one will ever really be able to understand, yesterday, while at Southland Hardware, dumb dumb, aka hyphen, decided to buy the girls whistles. Coach style whistles.

Annabelle got hers last night, and in her way of playing, she began to try and whistle songs and blow on it in different ways trying to make different sounds, asking us what each one sounded like. She tied a string around it and put it in the "art studio," for later use.

Tallulah got hers today.

And in her way of playing, she blows it. She blows it loud and proud.

She blows it in the van. She blows it inside the house. At the table. May I just say, your ears have never really experienced pain until you are sitting in a minivan where a three year old is blowing a whistle.

She keeps it in her purse, along with a magnifying glass, a pretend phone(which, she informs me, has games on it, unlike mine), a treasured pair of clip on earrings, a broken tiara that is more like a headband, and various chapsticks. Tallulah is nothing if not prepared.

She takes the purse with her everywhere, and sleeps with it, along with 25 stuffed animals. So it was not entirely unexpected, but still totally annoying, when tonight, after calling for me about 5 times, I heard the whistle.

My first thought: ummm, no. My second thought: the person who created this problem needs to fix it.

"Hieu..."

He was in the bathroom and not responding.

She blew it about 3 more times, each time louder and I was starting to get really hacked, especially since the girls share a room and Annabelle was asleep.

"Hieu, go deal with that."

"Dude, she is calling you not me, we both know that." He said this with goofy half smile he gets when he knows he has done wrong.

I went in the room. She just wanted to tell me goodnight. And she wanted me to hustle up.