Childrearing

My kids, ages 5 and 9, both whine constantly.  Any ideas for getting them to speak in a normal tone?

Whining: words sort of sung in an off-key, E-flat tone. Musical nagging. To say that whining gets on parents’ nerves is like saying that acid-rock music is mildly irritating when heard from a dentist’s chair.

Whine-weary parents have compared whining to the sound of fingernails scraping a blackboard, a buzz saw hitting a rusty nail, a serrated file being dragged across the strings of a violin.

All kids whine to some degree. It’s part of their childish nature. Contrary to popular belief, not all kids outgrow the practice. Some grownups can still whine with the best of kids. Prime whine time lies in the heart of childhood, roughly between ages 3 and 10. Adolescents would whine more if they didn’t spend so much time being mad at us. Antagonism and whining are offsetting emotions.

Much whining is transitory. It comes and goes with the coming and going of a child’s wants. As long as Patience doesn’t desire anything from you, she’s less likely to whine. I mean, how often does she badger you with “Awwww, Mom, I’d be sooooo happy if I could pull weeds all day.”

Several approaches can help you tone down the frequency of your daughter’s whining. The most basic is “planned stupor.” Once the whining starts, you cease to respond. Act as though no one is even there. As long as the whining is wearing on, you are oblivious. In time — anywhere between three minutes and 12 years — the pestering will die down. Honest. Kids get tired of talking to walls even quicker than parents do.

Of course, planned stupor requires tremendous stamina. Many, if not most, parents will admit they’re not sure if they can, or even want to, stand up to such relentless badgering until it peters out. Put another way, you might be able to endure the scraping of one fingernail on a blackboard for three seconds, but not 34,000 nails dragging across it for nine hours.

If planned stupor is not appealing, you can turn to whine tactic No. 2: “deliberate distance.” Wherever and whenever possible, as soon as the whine begins, put distance between your ears and Melody’s vocal chords. You could leave the room, the house, maybe the country, but typically none of these is convenient or wise. Why should you have to go anywhere? You’re not the whiner. You’re the whine-ee. So, put Melody somewhere where you can’t hear her voice, or where it’s dampened enough to be bearable.

Her room is one obvious place. Another is a “quiet chair,” as psychologists call it. (Now there’s a misnomer.) You could send her outside or downstairs. Do you have a whine cellar? Since her constant whining is infringing upon your rights, i.e., the right to be sane, you are well within your rights to temporarily deny her the privilege of being near you, or at least the privilege of nagging you.

A third option is the “Anything whined for is not given” rule. If Melody whines for something, tell her once, “That’s whining,” and then don’t give her what she’s asking for. She has to ask appropriately to receive, the first time around.

Finally, to remind you and your youngsters that whining is not a form of communication that gets any results in your house, put a sign on your refrigerator door clearly spelling out “NO WHINE.” You are making a promise: You will spell no whine before its time.

Want more of Ray Guarendi’s wit and wisdom? The doctor and dad is in at DrRay.com.