Brambles for the Child

It’s almost like they’re lost when they’re having a tantrum. Or like they’re stuck.

When things are working well, you’re all walking along a well worn, well known path. Heading “back from the pasture” after a day of work and school. But then your kid gets off the path, and wanders down to throw rocks in a creek or chase an elusive frog. It starts simply. You call to them to come back to the path. But they love the frog and they don’t want to come back. The black berry bush they found is perfect. The berries are just ripe. And they don’t WANT to come back. But you know it’s time. And dusk comes so quickly. You insist. (It really IS time.) But when at last they try to return, they sometimes get caught up in a tangle of briar thorns. Usually it’s the thorns of the very berries or flowers they were trying to pick. But sometimes, the brambles catch them and it makes no sense how they even got caught on them.

Then. Finally, with or without a huff, depending on your mood, you step off the path to untangle them. On the way down you see the frog swimming in the clear water and you smell the flowers that have a strong and delicate scent. Not like you had really FORGOTTEN that roses smell just so, but…kinda you forgot. Because now you’re here- off the path- down the side of the hill, and the lures that brought your child away from the path make sense to you. You reach down to untangle your beloved. And reaching into the brambles you get scraped, and your flannel snags. Sheesh.

“Stop pulling,” you say, '“and watch how I do this.” You pinch the cloth and grab between the hooks with your other hand. Maybe your kid has obvious scrapes. But you overlook them for the goal of this untangling. You’ll get to the minor injuries in due time. Scraped (or not) and irritated (or not), you return to the path. By the time you reach home, you’ve both had time to calm down. You wash the wounds and have dinner.

Treat tantrums like this.

Treat your child like they are stuck on a bramble. And if you wind up all snagged up, admit you are stuck in a briar, and take the time it takes to untangle yourself.

Poetically, I think we can all relate to this moment (even if you aren’t a born hill hopper), but more tangibly, what is this like? How do we apply this scene to our parenting?

So here’s a way it plays out

“You can go play for five minutes, then we’ll have dinner” (you’re on the path home)

Adam gets out the iPad. (The Child chases frog)

You set the table and five minutes have gone by “Get off the iPad it’s time for dinner!”(The Parent calls for return to path)

“Just one more minute PLEASE?!?! I got this THING I’m doing!!!” (The child really likes the frog)

“Okay. I’ll set an alarm.” and then the alarm goes off. "NO!!!! PLEASE!!!? I HAFTOOOOO” or “No, Adam. I told you once and it’s time to come.” Followed by the sounds of the game continuing… (They don’t want to come back but you know it’s time and they are probably hooked on a bramble.)

Come on. “

“This is STOOPID! I hate this. You’re so MEAN!” (Snag)

Now.

Here.

This is when it really happens.

You could do it earlier than this moment. Prevent the snag or something…but eventually you’ll get here. To this moment.

If they know how to control themselves, this moment won’t alarm or upset you. But if you do get pretty agitated, it tells you that you don’t believe they know how to get UNTANGLED.

So. Go. Go show them.

The advice of the field is: CONNECT before you CORRECT. It means go see the frog. Go smell the flowers. Go help them learn to get untangled.

GO. and risk getting tangled to help them out of it. (You walk off the path, down the hillside, and kneel beside them. They are small in the world and tangled at night and confused about what to do.)

“Adam.” You don’t need to yell. You’ve walked over to them. (steady voice = you know there’s a way out of this)

“What’s this game that has you so worked up?” (Let’s take a look at what kind of brambles you’re into.)

“It’s the last level. Just a second!” (You know the smell of that rose.)

“It’s time to turn it off.” (You reach for the bramble stalk. You don’t yank on it. You have clear movement. You hold it steady.)

“PLEASE!? NO!!” (Whining = they don’t want to leave the roses)

“You can turn it off, or I can turn it off, but it’s dinner time.” (You hold steady, even as they try to jerk away)

“NO!” Well. they’ve overreached at this point. Maybe you are hurt by this (Your briar snags you) or maybe you aren’t hurt and you know.

“I’m turning it off.” You turn it off. - or - “I need you to not talk to me that way.” (you lift separate the cloth from the thorn)

“it’s dinner time. I know that finishing a game is fun. and it looks like you’re doing well. I get it. But it’s dinner time now. Come on.”

(Unsnag. Return to path)

If it escalates, you have more work to do. But it’s the same work. What is the sticking point? Hold steady between the thorns, life and separate) Set limits. define your plan, and follow through, with their safety in mind. Lather rinse repeat.

And if it’s predictably bad, playing games before dinner… prevent them from playing it. (hold their hand on when you approach the froggy bank.)

Ultimately, you’ll know they can untangle themselves from the brambles. Then, when you insist that it’s time to go back home, even if they scoff you, and get tangled, well, you don’t have to go fetch them. They’ll learn to wrestle the bushes and you’ll stand there, holding light on the path.

Eventually, they will learn to find their own way out of tangles. That’s the goal. To end up with a child who knows their way out of the woods. You don’t really want a child who doesn’t care about flowers.

Thank your child for the humble reminder that flowers smell as they do and frogs flash as they do. You didn’t know there were so many briars on this particular hill, but now you do. Go then, with a bit of gratitude, and teach them how to untangle themselves from briars and brambles and teach them how to find their way back to the path.

and I write about what happens in the brain in another <<<<<<<BLOG>>>>>> but here I want to talk to you about how to deal with a kid in a snag.

Tantrums are lonely and exhausting