Parenting books usually advise us not to lose our tempers and resort to screaming, shouting, or spanking our children. For once, I disagree. Although I do not believe in spanking, I am also unable to maintain my cool 24/7 and I’m not sure I want to.

Just like every toddler, Stephen can get very frustrated. Late this afternoon, when he was playing with the Thunderbird craft Marv made him out of Legos, one wing fell off, then the nose. Instead of coming to us to ask for help in putting it back together, he started screaming and crying. I could probably tolerate one or two episodes like this a day, but it seemed as if he’d been screaming and crying every hour since he woke up this morning.

When I put the pieces back together, he continued screaming and crying. When I tried to talk to him reasonably, he continued screaming and crying. When I tried to mirror his emotions to show that I understood his frustration, he continued screaming and crying.

So, I took apart the Thunderbird craft. Then, I dismantled the house we’d made earlier and proceeded to throw every piece of Lego I could find into the plastic storage box–as loudly and as angrily as I could. I put the box into the guest room and slammed the door shut. I told him that if the toy made him that angry, I would put it away so he wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore. He could have it back when he could play with it nicely.

Of course, he continued screaming and crying. I brought him into the bedroom and told him I would talk to him when he stopped and closed the door. After a few minutes, I went back and asked if he was ready to calm down. When he didn’t, I brought him out to the living room and shouted, “I’m angry! I’ve had enough!” I then took his little saucepan and slammed the plastic stool with it a few times to emphasize my point.

By this time, he was trying to appease me. He took the saucepan from me and put it away. He stroked my arm looking at me with his red, snotty, tear-stained face, and said, “Touch nice. Touch nice. Sorry. Sorry. Give kiss.” But there was no stopping me. I went into loud nag mode.

“I don’t understand what you have to complain about. Didn’t we talk about this before? If you don’t like the toy, Mama will put it away. You like to scream and cry? We don’t like to listen to you screaming and crying. Who else screams and cries like you? Baba and Mama do not scream or cry. You’ve been screaming and crying all day. I can’t take it anymore! If you keep screaming and crying, I’m going to go somewhere else because I just don’t like it. It’s not nice. You’re a nice boy. If you need help, you just have to ask us. ‘Baba, Mama can you help me? Help!’ That’s all it takes. Why do you have to scream and cry?”

By the time I started repeating myself, he had calmed down and was sitting on my lap listening and nodding his head. A few minutes later, we were enjoying some sticker time. And a half hour after my outburst, he was retelling the incident in his own words. He clearly understood what had happened.

This was not the first time I’ve lost my temper. Staying calm and collected when Stephen’s upset may be effective when he has gotten hurt. But, when he’s having trouble learning appropriate conduct, I think it’s good if I show him that I’m an emotional person just like him. Without some passion behind my words, I’m not sure if he would know how much his actions affect people. And hopefully, learning to deal with my emotions will help him deal with other people’s as well.

I think I make a better parent than a single-emotion automaton who isn’t bothered by anything.

NB: Stephen is doing well at controlling his impulse to hit. He’ll verbalize his desire to hit instead of actually doing it. Problem is, instead of saying, “I hit.” or “Me hit,” he says, “Hit me! Hit me!” I hope nobody gets the wrong idea.

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