I wouldn’t have been surprised if one of my neighbours called the cops on me this morning.
With screams of bloody murder coming from our garage, I really couldn’t blame them.
In what I *wish* I could call the tantrum to end all tantrums (but in reality is just a daily thing around here), you’d swear one of my children was being cornered by someone wielding a chainsaw.
In reality, it was just another day in the I-dont-want-this-I-want-that-oh-wait-I-changed-my-mind life of a three-year-old.
So we carried on. Throwing his discarded snowsuit, boots and other miscellaneous winter paraphernalia into the front seat of the car, I buckled him in for the short drive to preschool.
And even though it felt like the tantrum was NEVER going to end, after a few minutes of being left alone, he settled.
A great reminder for me that even though my knee-jerk response is to jump in and “fix” these types of situations, not everything needs “fixing.”
Sometimes all that’s needed is allowing them the space to weather the storm on their own.