Most days with our toddler is filled with awe, laughter, and joy. Then there are days when we wonder if our child has been possessed and in need of a serious exorcism. Today was one of those days. I was in our home office working when all of a sudden, I heard my sweet little girl yelling.
I headed to the kitchen to see my poor husband with a look of pure torment on his face and Sara at the table with a plate of spaghetti.
“I want a PB&J, Daddy!”
Typically, Sara eats what we eat, but on days when we’re eating different things, we give her a choice. This afternoon, we gave her the choice and she didn’t say one way or the other what she wanted to eat, so Josh made her a plate of spaghetti. When she got to the table, she decided that she wanted a PB&J. Unfortunately, we don’t play that game.
We’re not going to make 5 different meals until she figures out what she wants to eat. Especially when she starts throwing a fit about it. We have a no-tolerance policy when it comes to whining. Throwing a fit is an automatic disqualification in the game of negotiations for our toddler. So when the “I want PB&J” chant increased in volume, I told her to calm down and eat her pasta.
“I WANT PB&J!!!”
When the yelling became a full-blown fit, I told her to get down from the table and put herself in time out until she calmed down. She started stomping, and Josh carried her to the other room for a time out.
She refused to sit down and stay in time out and just when you think it couldn’t get any worse, the hysteria kicked in. Sara began this high pitched scream that I’ve only heard in the Exorcist. I was waiting for her head to start spinning around on her shoulders while spewing green vomit. All the while screaming…
“I WANT PB&J!!!!!”
Over and over, she screamed while slamming into the wall. Josh and I could only look at each other at a complete loss. We knew that we had to stand our ground and that we couldn’t let her get her way after throwing such a fit, but we didn’t want to listen to an hour of sustainable madness either. After a minute that seemed to last for hours, she still hadn’t calmed down and she wouldn’t stop screaming…
“I WANT PB&J!!!”
In between racking, soul-wrenching, heart-breaking sobs, she kept on in a demonic voice…
“I WANT PB&J!!!”
As Sara stood in a gun slinger pose on the opposite side of the kitchen, in the throes of what could only be called the “Longest Temper Tantrum Ever”, I had an epiphany. I needed to subdue the monster that had invaded my child’s body by smothering it with kindness. In my most quiet, calm voice, I said,
“No. You can’t have PB&J, but you can have some pasta.”
Sobbing inconsolably like her world was crumbling around her,
“I want PB&J, Mama!”
I told her again, in the same quiet, calm voice so she had to listen to hear me (which is hard, because I’m normally a very loud person),
“I’m sorry, baby. You can have some pasta if you want.”
In a between quiet sobs, Sara said, “I want some pasta.”
Growing up, I remembered saying and doing things just to get a reaction from my family. The more incensed they got, the more it fed my inner monster. Who knew that ignoring the madness and presenting a calm, collected front was the way to exorcise the toddler demons?
