The Art of the Tantrum

Cole is learning new things every day. He is able to repeat every word we say. (This will come back to haunt us, I’m sure.) He can climb the stairs by stepping up each one instead of crawling, and he counts them as he goes. He can go into the fridge and show me want he wants to eat or drink. If I read him a book, he will “read” it himself after, and actually remembers some of the things I said. I love each of these new things. But what he has gotten especially good at is throwing temper tantrums. Needless to say, I’m not a fan.

I never know what is going to incite one of these tantrums. Sometimes I don’t fill up his cup with milk fast enough. (I guess I should be happy that he loves milk.) Sometimes I take his jacket off when we get to daycare. (I know, how dare I.) This morning it was because he had to take off his Buzz pajamas and put on real clothes. (Not an attachment to Buzz so much as an attachment to being difficult.) And other times it seems like it is for no reason at all.

It also seems that the older he gets, the more dramatic these tantrums become. It used to just be a whiny thing and a pouty lip. Then he learned the art of throwing yourself on the floor. (I remembered when my niece started to do this and how I hoped that I would never have a child who did the same.) I guess this is a common thing. And now that he is getting older, Cole’s tantrums have taken new heights. He doesn’t only stick out his lip, but the bottom teeth actually come out. He cries, yells, falls on the floor and gives me the most pathetic look imaginable. Today it even graduated to telling me no and pushing me out of his room.

As a parent, I feel like I should know how to handle these tantrums. I usually either get the urge to cuddle him to try and make everything better (if I’m in nice mom mode) or yell at him to get up and knock it off (if I am low on patience). But I guess the right thing to do is probably to ignore him. Of course, sometimes that is easier said than done.

Mad that I was leaving him with a sitter