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30. Minutes. That is how long my child screamed “I WANT IT!” today. 30 minutes. Straight. With no deviation from his goal. And what did he want? Enough to scream about it for a half hour? You might be thinking it was something serious like a kidney, or a piece of floss for a horribly painful popcorn kernel, or maybe even, a cup of water for severe dehydration. But no, no, my friends. He wanted… wait for it… his blanket. Which I offered to retrieve {as many as 6 times}, if he would simply cease the screaming.
There are a lot of things that take 30 minutes. An episode of Friends. The delicate cycle on my dryer. The entire process of the Ole Henricksen Power Peel. Mixing, setting, and gobbling down a pan of Rice Krispie Bars. Drafting, editing, and publishing a blog post.
But withstanding a 30 minute meltdown from a child is not a desirable 30 minute event. It isn’t. I will. not. sugarcoat. the. hysterics. And being the child screaming “I WANT IT,” well, that takes real sticktoitiveness. From all parties. I think I am finally getting to the okay level of handling such behavior. I didn’t yell. I didn’t grab an arm. I didn’t scream, “I DON’T WANNA DO THIS” while splayed out on the floor, pounding my fists to the ground. I walked into the other room, fed the babe, and tried to find my inner calm… which, it would seem is buried very, very deep.
He finally caved when I told him I’d rub his back. In an effort to coax him to sleep. So I suppose we met in the middle. But sweet petunias… this kid is destined for hostage negotiation. Or medical residency. Or running marathons. Something that takes true stamina. Because that he has in spades. I’m not kidding one little bit when I say he probably coulda lasted another 30. I mean, that’s dedication to the craft.
Little humans are awesome. But they have all the emotion of big humans. With nowhere to keep them all. So out. they. spill. On a daily basis. And yeah, it’s our job as parents to love them through it. I get that. From 30 minute tantrums all the way to missed curfews to royally huge mistakes. And of course, we do. But given the option, would I choose watching Friends over dealing with a 30 minute screamfest? Betchyourbottomdollar I would. With my kiddo snuggled right beside me. Not screaming.
TGIF.
