Got whistle?

My parents will be happy to know that I've still got whistle. They'll also know what that means.

You see, as a kid I learned to stick my fingers in my mouth and whistle really loud thanks to my second cousin Ginger...or was it Pam? Anyway, loud enough that when it was time for my brother to come home when playing at the elementary school across from where we grew up, I'd stand on the front porch and whistle for him. Usually one good long whistle did the job.

So...picture us at Disney with 3 year old twins who are feeling particularly frisky and who do not want to listen to mom while on vacation any more than they want to at home, but who have decided to include Dad in their not-listening-to state of mind.

How do you stop not one, but two 3 year olds in their tracks when they've ventured too far ahead and calling to them has no effect? You got it...just whistle.

I'm happy to say that it worked every time. Probably annoyed the hell out of anyone nearby and may have even burst an eardrum or two, but Ellie and Grace stopped and waited for us catch up.

So it is with the utmost pride that I say, yes, I got whistle. Do you?