We have a saying in our house about Julia (coined by Julia herself a couple of years back, hence the wacky Junie B. Jones-esque grammar).

“When Julia got 4, she got quick. When Julia got 5, she got smart. When she got 6, she got strong.”

As her mother, there is no doubt in my mind that when Julia got 7 (which was recently) she got really, really whiny.

Now I would never tell her this. And as long as I have parental controls on my computer, and two hands that can rip out the plug at a moment’s notice, she won’t read about it. And I’m trusting you moms out there who know her, not to mention it to her. Or to your kids/her friends who might, in turn, mention it to her.

But the truth is, THERE IS NO FINER WHINE. Not at all light-bodied. It’s robust, bold. Yet with a hint of petulance and defiance. And a trace of shrill that can shrink a brain stem.

This new phase of her development (and I’m desperately trying to convince myself that it’s only a phase, so you moms who have been through this and know better, please, don’t contradict or educate me. I’m in denial)… Anyway, this new phase is like the terrible twos, without the hitting and tantrums.  But no less terrible.

I barely say anything and the whine kicks in:

“Julia, sweetie would you please pick up your—” WHINE!  “Julia don’t leave your shoes in the—” WHINE! “No you can’t run in the house with scissors–” WHINE! “Julia—”  WHINE!

I’m not kidding when I say this whine goes straight to my head! And I go straight for the Tylenol. The headache it produces is far worse than any “one too many sulfite-soaked Cabernet-induced morning after” headaches that I’ve experienced. Actually, it’s not unlike the one you would get if your kid was blowing a whistle loudly in the enclosed car during a very long road trip while constantly kicking the back of your seat and playing the same Hannah Montana song over and over and over in the CD player.

What keeps me sane, is hoping knowing that it’s only a phase. Right? And when Julia gets 8, she’ll get angelic? Right? Right?