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Parenting breakthrough today. This was big.

Bug went to timeout today, like he does seemingly every day. Our timeout rules consist of the following:

1. Timeout doesn’t start until you’re quiet (i.e. Pitch your fit, scream and yell, do whatever, but you’re still stuck in timeout for x number of minutes after you’re quiet).
2. Timeout time = 1 minute for every year. Because Bug is almost 4, it’s 4 minutes.

So, Bug was in timeout throwing the mother of all tantrums.Turk and I ignored it for a while, but there is an unspoken rule between us that when his tantrums escalate (spitting, screaming bloody murder, etc.), toys start to be taken away.

Bug’s tantrum escalated. At one point, I’m fairly certain his head spun around on his shoulders.

“Bug,” I responded calmly, “If you keep this up, you will lose your cars for the day.”

He screamed louder, spit further, tantrumed tantrum-ier.

“Daddy,” I called to Turk, “Bug has chosen to lose his cars for the day, could you please take them all away?”

“Sure thing!” Turk cheerily replied, gathering the cars that Bug had been playing with earlier today, along with others. He made sure to walk by Bug so that he saw that Daddy and Mommy were serious.

Bug flipped out some more, understandably. We waited a little longer before doling out the next loss of toys.

“Buddy,” I warned after a minute or two of maniacal screaming on his part, “If you continue this, you’ll be losing your guys for the day too.”

“You’re NOT!” Bug replied. This is his ultimate insult to anyone and he thinks it’s pretty mean to say. For that reason, and because he spit at me, Turk and I were forced to continue the toy arrests.

“Daddy, Bug has chosen to also lose his guys for the day,” I called nonchalantly into the other room.

Turk loaded them up and brought those out to the garage as well.

Bug soon got quiet and before we knew it, his four straight minutes of quietness ended his timeout session. I knelt down and we had a talk about why he was in timeout in the first place, and why he lost his guys and cars. He apologized. We hugged. He went on with his life.

I didn’t yell.

Turk didn’t yell.

And you can bet we’re not caving and giving him those toys back before the end of the day. He needs to know we mean what we say. He needs to know that both for disciplinary reasons and for his own security. I feel that when we are consistent with what we say and do, he learns that we will always keep our promises, always stay true to our word. He’ll hate that when he’s in trouble, but it will mean the world to him when it comes to being there for him in every other aspect of his life.

After Bug’s last major tantrum last week, I was replaying the story for my mom. She said something to me that I kept running through my head today. She said that when my brother or I were throwing tantrums, she would think to herself, “This is a test, and he is failing it.” Sometimes, our kids will pass the test, like when we say “No, you can’t have that toy,” and they calmly put it back on the shelf and walk away. Sometimes, they will fail, like Bug did during his tantrum today after losing his toys and being stuck in the corner for longer than necessary.

The idea that our kids are undergoing a test with each action they take takes a huge weight off my shoulders. Bug or Bean’s tantrums aren’t a direct insult to me. They don’t have anything to do with how badly they want to defy me. Their tantrums are each a test to figure out exactly what boundaries they are allowed to cross in their little lives, and which are not okay. Some are bigger and more important tests than others, but each and every single one helps prepare them for life as adults.

I think we’re raising some pretty awesome individuals.

Photo Credit: Raelinin

Source: sxc.hu