A Gentle Approach

My daughter is 4. She is 35 pounds of pure sunlight. I love her so strongly and so deeply that it’s frightening.

She also drives me batshit crazy.

Not all of the time. Just some of the time. Like once a day.

The girl has OPINIONS. If you contradict her at the wrong time, she can throw a tantrum with the best of them. Our general approach to this is to let her feel what she needs to feel. However, if we veer into a place where there’s kicking or screaming, we usually carry her up to her room until she can be calm. I don’t necessarily think it’s always the best approach, but I also don’t want her brother (who will be 1 tomorrow) to watch that behavior.

Today I was eating lunch with the kids while also preparing for an upcoming conference call. She was munching on her sandwich and playing with a butterfly net that her grandma got her at Dollar Tree. She whacked my computer by mistake. I asked her not to do that. It happened again, so I asked her to please put the net on the floor.

Whack. Whack.

My computer is old and fragile, so I asked two more times that she not do that. She didn’t listen, so I removed the net from her hands and put it on top of the fridge, out of her reach. She shouted, then screamed, then told me I was a a “bad woman.” (I always laugh when she calls me that. It’s her go-to insult.)

I picked her up and carried her to her room, laid her on her bed, and told her she could come back downstairs when she was calm. But something in her eyes made me stop before I left the room. I don’t really know what it was, but instead of seeing an angry brat (which she absolutely is at times), I saw a sweet little girl who was having trouble handling some big feelings.

I sat down on her floor and told her I’d be there for a minute if she decided she’d rather hug things out. She walked over to me immediately, sat in my lap and wrapped her little arms around my neck.

We stayed like that for a minute. We talked for a minute more. And then we walked back to the kitchen, holding hands.

It was the fastest, easiest resolution we’ve ever had.

Two hours later, she got mad again because I wouldn’t let her use my phone to play a game. She stomped out of the room, telling me (again) that I am a bad woman. I followed her, scooped her up, and sat down on the couch. I told her to lay her head on my shoulder until she felt better. Again, she laid there for a minute, we talked for a minute, and then all was well.

I’m saying the same words to her every time, but the lesson I learned today is that a gentle approach feels better for both of us. Regardless of my approach, I am explaining to her that I know she gets frustrated, but that screaming, stomping, being rude, etc. are not ok ways to handle her feelings. She says she knows. We talk about better things to do when she’s upset like taking a deep breath and counting to four (thanks for that one, Daniel Tiger).

It will take time and maturity for the words to sink in and make sense. But I want to believe that a loving delivery will make a difference.

The delivery before was never angry. (Ok, that’s not entirely true. Sometimes I get angry, but not very often.) I’m a measured, patient person. But in my measuredness, my words might feel cold at times, especially to a child. Measured words said with love and a hug are warm. I don’t know if she will learn the lessons sooner when they come to her with love, but I know it feels better for both of us. I love the feeling of hugging that little girl, and I clearly remember the joy of being wrapped up in my mom’s arms. I hope she never gets too old to come to me for that, and I hope I can always give her messages of encouragement this way.