Sock It To Me

On the way home from school each day Sam and I play a game I've started calling Quid Pro Quo. I tell him something about my day he wouldn't otherwise know, and he reciprocates. We do this until one person runs out of news and that makes the other person the 'winner.' My only goal is to get him to talk about his day. This game has sparked some tangential conversations and occasionally, he finds my news funny - like the other day when I admitted I ate an entire package of mini Oreos for lunch.

Yesterday during our game I shared that Jake had a wobbler on the way to school. I honestly don't remember what it was about. (I got them Lego car kits the other day so it was probably about a lost Lego piece. Whoever invented and continues to manufacture Legos secretly dislikes parents and children.) And instead of reciprocating, Sam said, "There is something we do in our classroom when someone has a tantrum that may help with Jake."

"Really? What's that? 'Cause I could use some advice."

"Respect him."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Respect him. That's what works in our classroom."

I pressed but he couldn't explain any further what he meant. But, the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Respect the tantrum, respect the emotion, respect the kid.

So today when Jake had a wobbler on the way to school - this time because Sam mistakenly took one of Jake's Lego cars to school - I tried a slightly different approach. I respected the tantrum.

I let him walk 20 feet behind us into school. Let him check himself in. I didn't try to talk him down or talk him out of it. I didn't reprimand him. I only said, "It's OK to be upset. Just don't be mean."

And by the time I left he was smiling, having a snack but not a wobbler. It's probably a fluke. Jake and his wobblers are as unpredictable as ... well, life. But this time, taking the advice of a 7-year-old worked.

Maybe I'll share that with Sam this afternoon.