Country-Fried Daddy and I are having a heated debate over which is more annoying: Miss D.’s Eeyore voice or Miss D.’s robot voice.
To me, there’s no contest.
Our sweet three-year-old has adopted another child’s mannerism of dragging out the end of every sentence so that it sounds like a whine, even when she is happy.
“Belly and I are playing tea paaaaaaarty.”
If she grew her nails and scraped them up and down her chalkboard all day long, I don’t think I could have a stronger reaction.
The Eeyore voice pushed me to react in an insane manner this afternoon, officially forcing me out of the running for mother of the year.
“Miss D.,” I said. “Please clean up your Play-Doh.”
“But, Mooooommy. I don’t really waaaaaaant to.”
“I didn’t ask if you wanted to. I asked you to do it.”
“But, Mooooommy. I really want some juuuuuuuice.”
And moments later, the Play-Doh was in the trash.
I feel like I just re-enacted a scene from Mommy Dearest. I plead insanity. The voice made me do it.
CFD, on the other hand, claims that Miss D.’s robot voice is far more grating.
“Miss D.,” he’ll say. “Please stop talking like a robot.”
"I...AM...NOT...TALKING...LIKE...A...ROBOT."
“Yes, you are,” CFD will say, “and I’d like you to stop.”
"THIS...IS...NOT...HOW...ROBOTS...TALK."
If there were a male equivalent of Mommy Dearest, the robot voice would drive CFD to re-enact it.
I told you no wire hangers or robot voices!
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
Ahh, the voices. Yes, I admit they drive me to recreate many a Mommy Dearest moment.
Gave you an award on my blog. And no, no voices were involved.
Oh, Lord. That must be so annoying. I just hate hearing mine whine.