Welcome, to the whine-cry stage. It is not a pleasant place for either of to be in. Amber is having trouble dealing with her frustrations and instead of talking or asking for help she melts into this state of whine-cry. It must have its own private language because I can't understand a word of what is going on. It is combine with some sort of cry scream that beats against my ear drums.
It began this morning (so early) when she attempted to take of her shirt. It got stuck. I know it is stuck. She knows it is stuck. The whine cry begins and escalates to the point that everyone in the house is now awake and looking for ear plugs.
I attempt calm rational talk. I know this will not work it never does. "Amber is your shirt stuck? Do you need help? The whine cry is now in full force and paired with a very unpleasant look. She knows I know what is wrong. I know she knows. She refuses to ask for help or use any type of words. The whine cry escalates and she adds a stomp. The stop end the calm part of me. Now MY voice escalates.
"JUST. ASK. FOR. HELP. I will help you. Why are you just standing there screaming?"
The whine cry goes up a pitch. I leave the room. The whine cry is not to be left behind. It follows me.
A rational part of me (the part that just wants the voice to stop) reasons that I should just help her with her dress. The stubborn part of me argues that If I don't stop responding to the whine cry monster it will never go away. Amber will be 32 and having a whine cry fit at her future place of work. So. I. Must. Be. Strong.
"Please just ask for help. or stop that noise. Please."
This battle of wills continues for about 5 minutes. I decide I know longer care about whining this fight. I just want it to stop. I stomp over and help her pull her arms out of her shirt. Whine cry stops immediately.
"Can I have you phone Mom? Please?" Says my 4 year old princess with perfectly clear words and not a whine cry in sight.