Do it.
My theme for 2021 is “Do it.” So here I am, doing it. I slacked off a bit (hope you continued my Halloween and Thanksgiving ideas into your own celebrations for December), but the time is now, so here we go. I have ideas rattling around in my head all the time; getting them from my head to paper…I mean, computer, is another thing. Here’s a story I’ve been reflecting on.
A few years ago I was taking care of some kids whom I know very well; I was their nanny for four years. One of them was angry that I didn’t drive, and so I couldn’t take him to Legoland. “Why don’t you drive? I want you to drive!” Kicking and screaming. Here’s the thing: I don’t drive. I grew up in New York City, and no one in my family drove. I tell people it’s not in my culture. I know how to drive, and I do have a license, but I haven’t actually driven a car since the 90’s, and I hate it so much I just don’t do it. I didn’t go into all that with the kid who was in the middle of a tantrum.
Why was a 5-year-old so mad that I didn’t drive? He wasn’t angry because I didn’t drive. He was upset because I hadn’t taken care of him in about a year, it was new again, he was anxious, and it was a time of transition—his mom was about to go to work. I think he might have been hungry too. What to do? Here’s what I did:
I acknowledged his feelings. I said, “I know it’s frustrating that I don’t drive so I can’t take you to Legoland. I wish we could fly there magically if we just snapped our fingers!” I kept going. “Do you know that they won’t even let you into Legoland if you don’t have a kid with you? I looked at the website once, and that’s what it said! So even if I wanted to go by myself, I would need you to go with me! Can you drive me? (humor always works for me—”No, I can’t drive either!” he said. We laughed. Tension broken.)
I continued. “I don’t even know what it looks like inside. I know you do. Can you tell me about it, and I’ll draw it out?” I got a piece of paper and a marker. I put it in front of us with a snack so he could munch and talk. I said, “Okay, so you walk in. What do you see first? “The elevator.” What else should I put?” We ended up with a diagram of sorts; where the elevator was, the cafeteria, the different exhibits, etc. We talked a lot. When we were done, he went off to play.
Here’s what worked: I took the time to acknowledge his feelings, and he worked them out by drawing and eating, and answering my sincere questions. He knows a lot more about Legoland than I do. He was able to teach me something, and that made him feel useful, powerful, and heard. The whole interaction took about 15 minutes. When your kid is upset, say back to them what they’re feeling. “I know you’re mad that we can’t go to Josh’s house. I’m mad too. Ugh, Coronavirus (waving fist in the air)! “I know you’re sad that Mitten died. She was a great cat, wasn’t she? I’m sad too.” “You look really frustrated—do you need help with that puzzle?” It works when they’re happy too. “Yay! You got a card in the mail! You look so happy!” “It’s exciting to open your birthday presents, isn’t it?”
Sometimes when a kid is really upset, they just need to be alone. If you’re so wound up you can’t imagine drawing a picture or saying any of the above, it’s okay to step away for a few minutes and take a breath. All of this takes practice! See what happens when you do it, and let me know how it goes.