My high pitched voice can often be heard calling things like, "Whose underwear are these right in the middle of the hallway?" Or maybe, "Do not squirt your sister!" as I call from the protection of the dining room.
I yell. I am OK with it. It's my style.
But recently, after picking Ethan up from a playdate, he posed this question on the ride home.
"Mom, did you know that there are moms that do not yell? Isn't that amazing?"
After wiping the tears of laughter from my eyes, my response?
"Honey, I know that there are moms that do not yell. God just didn't happen to give you one of them."
Suck it up.
So, give it up. Are you a lover or a fighter? Or a yeller?