Whisper Rules

As the advent season gets underway, we decided it was time to resume our search for a church, so we headed up to Pelham on Sunday morning (that may sound far away, but it actually takes us less time to get there than to most spots in Manhattan). On the way, we explained to Fiona that she had a choice: she could go to a special room to play with other kids her age, or she could sit with Mommy and Daddy but she would have to be quiet. Fiona chose the latter.

A few bathroom breaks aside, Fiona behaved herself very well for the hour-long service. When she needed to say something, she made sure to whisper, and when we told her she couldn't do something she didn't scream or cry, she just shoved her thumb in her mouth and lay on the floor. Nevertheless, we were exhausted; we gave Fiona the option this week because we hadn't tried a church in a while and we didn't know if we would like the church or not (we did). Next Sunday Fiona's going to the two-year-old room.

When we left the church, we thanked Fiona for behaving as well as she had, and promised her she wouldn't have to whisper for the rest of the day. And boy is she holding us to that promise. When she was playing before her nap, I leaned down and whispered to her that in five minutes we were going to have to get ready for her nap, she looked at me and said in a loud voice "we don't have to whisper any more." And she's been repeating that refrain for the past two days.

Well, that and "are we going to bake cookies now?" But that's just because we stupidly promised her that we could bake Christmas cookies next weekend, and now we have to make a toddler understand that she has to get all the way from Monday to Friday before the weekend will be here. You'd think we'd have learned by now.