He wanders up the stairs, first one up this morning, and asks for his morning dose of chocolate
milk. I tell him I'll get it for him in just a minute, as I am waking the others to get ready for church.
I wake each child up and the youngest one is raspy with a runny nose, so I decide to keep her and her brother, patiently waiting for some chocolate milk, home with me and send the older two to church with their dad.
I head back to the kitchen, open the refrigerator to retrieve milk and chocolate syrup, and discover no milk. It's then that I remember I didn't make it to the store yesterday and we drank the last of the milk last night.
But I spot two caprisuns and I think they will like that, so I offer one to the boy and to his sister. She is happy, however, he is not.
"I want chocolate milk!" he cries.
"I'm sorry, we used the last of the milk last night. But I'll buy some more today so you can have some later."
"I want chocolate milk!" He persists throwing himself prostrate on the floor pounding his fists. "I'm sorry, honey. We'll buy more later."
Knowing there is no reasoning with him, I simply set the caprisun down and walk away to give him some time to work it out on his own.
Tantrums are never easy to contend with, but as I walk down the hall, I remember the statement I read in Raising Great Kids a few years ago. The statement that encourages parents to empathize with their child's struggle because this stage of life is hard on them, as they are expected to transition from completely selfcentered to thinking outside of themselves. ~ Dr. Henry Cloud & Dr. John Townsend
I wake each child up and the youngest one is raspy with a runny nose, so I decide to keep her and her brother, patiently waiting for some chocolate milk, home with me and send the older two to church with their dad.
I head back to the kitchen, open the refrigerator to retrieve milk and chocolate syrup, and discover no milk. It's then that I remember I didn't make it to the store yesterday and we drank the last of the milk last night.
But I spot two caprisuns and I think they will like that, so I offer one to the boy and to his sister. She is happy, however, he is not.
"I want chocolate milk!" he cries.
"I'm sorry, we used the last of the milk last night. But I'll buy some more today so you can have some later."
"I want chocolate milk!" He persists throwing himself prostrate on the floor pounding his fists. "I'm sorry, honey. We'll buy more later."
Knowing there is no reasoning with him, I simply set the caprisun down and walk away to give him some time to work it out on his own.
Tantrums are never easy to contend with, but as I walk down the hall, I remember the statement I read in Raising Great Kids a few years ago. The statement that encourages parents to empathize with their child's struggle because this stage of life is hard on them, as they are expected to transition from completely selfcentered to thinking outside of themselves. ~ Dr. Henry Cloud & Dr. John Townsend
I wonder to myself how I can help him, when my explanations and solutions only instigate
retaliation, yet I know leaving him alone in his threeandahalf year old distress is not the answer
either.
I'm wandering aimlessly through the next room as I recall what we've done with every other tantrum we've encountered over the years.
And I contemplate how I can give him what he might want even more than that chocolate milk.
Then I walk back over to him.
Still crying into the carpet, fists pounding, I squat next to him.
"Drew, can I hold you?"
"I want chocolate milk!" he bellows into the carpet.
(I wait a couple of seconds)
"Drew, are you ready for me to hold you?"
"I want chocolate milk!"
(I wait a couple of more seconds)
"Drew, mommy is going to pick you up now."
I lift him up and bring him in close to me.
He lets me.
Yet, he's still crying on my shoulder, "I want chocolate milk."
I walk him over to the couch and sit with him nestled into me.
He then pulls back, looks over to the table I had set the caprisun on and cries, "I want a caparisun."
"Okay," I thankfully comply.
I'm wandering aimlessly through the next room as I recall what we've done with every other tantrum we've encountered over the years.
And I contemplate how I can give him what he might want even more than that chocolate milk.
Then I walk back over to him.
Still crying into the carpet, fists pounding, I squat next to him.
"Drew, can I hold you?"
"I want chocolate milk!" he bellows into the carpet.
(I wait a couple of seconds)
"Drew, are you ready for me to hold you?"
"I want chocolate milk!"
(I wait a couple of more seconds)
"Drew, mommy is going to pick you up now."
I lift him up and bring him in close to me.
He lets me.
Yet, he's still crying on my shoulder, "I want chocolate milk."
I walk him over to the couch and sit with him nestled into me.
He then pulls back, looks over to the table I had set the caprisun on and cries, "I want a caparisun."
"Okay," I thankfully comply.
I set him aside and stand up to retrieve the caprisun, punch the straw into the pouch and hand it
to him.
"I want you to sit with me," he whimpers.
And I do, as he slurps his caprisun down and tosses the pouch aside.
And I continue to hold him, as he watches an episode of the Backyardigans with his little sister, who leans into the other side of me.
And everything is okay again, because more than the things our children throw fits over, more than what they relentlessly beg us for – as much as they may seem to push us away over these matters, we are what they really want more than anything.
They don't want our reasons, excuses, or explanations.
They don't care that much about the thing they can't have, really.
They want us at the very core of their distress our time, love and affection. They want our acceptance, approval and affirmation.
And this, with proper timing, could be the solution to just about any distress in a child's life.
- Theresa Miller, MOPS Mom
"I want you to sit with me," he whimpers.
And I do, as he slurps his caprisun down and tosses the pouch aside.
And I continue to hold him, as he watches an episode of the Backyardigans with his little sister, who leans into the other side of me.
And everything is okay again, because more than the things our children throw fits over, more than what they relentlessly beg us for – as much as they may seem to push us away over these matters, we are what they really want more than anything.
They don't want our reasons, excuses, or explanations.
They don't care that much about the thing they can't have, really.
They want us at the very core of their distress our time, love and affection. They want our acceptance, approval and affirmation.
And this, with proper timing, could be the solution to just about any distress in a child's life.
- Theresa Miller, MOPS Mom
Theresa is a wife and mother of four children (3, 5, 7, and 9), who are embarking on their first year of homeschooling. Theresa has been involved in Sheridan MOPS for the last 9 ½ years, serving in multiple leadership positions, including Day MOPS Coordinator in 2007-2008. She took one year off, then started the Sheridan Evening MOPS group in September 2009. Theresa has published an article with MOPS International MOMSnext Ezine, in addition to other on-line publications. You can find Theresa encouraging mothers on her blog, Heavenly Glimpses.
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