Long time, no blog. So to pick up after many months, we seemed to turn a corner with S earlier this year; starting school seemed to help beyond anything we'd dared hope for. But it turned out to be a honeymoon, and although generally he is growing up and more able to control his behaviour, we have continued to feel that the whole household is bound by his tyranny.
A week or so ago, at the end of the school day, he flew out of class pausing only to thrust his bag into my hand, and ran to the door where his older brother exits. I hung back, as most parents do, and was chatting when P ran past squealing, chased by a thunderous-looking S. Round and round they ran, and having hurt my back badly the day before, I was very limited in my abilities to break this spat up. Eventually I was able to lay a hand on S's shoulder, to which he responded by kicking me in the shin.
Somehow we managed to get out of the gate, with S hurling insults at P. A lovely, sunny boy from S's class skipped up beside him and started to walk with us, and I saw this as a good opportunity to shift focus. I started asking this boy about the library book he was carrrying, which caused S to notice him and pay him some attention, but not to cease calling his brother names. While waiting for the traffic lights to change, I commented that this boy's dog, walked by his mother right behind us, was wearing a coat. As I said this I realised the dog was very old and also blind, and had a brief exchange with the mother about this. S shifted from calling P a moron to yelling "poo dog" at his friend's pet.
Perhaps too aware that this whole shambling mess had been observed by another adult for the whole walk home, I stalked ahead silently, got in the door, and hauled S up to his bedroom. He was completely taken aback, had no idea he'd done anything out of the ordinary. I hadn't lost control, but I was angry and some switch inside me flicked to the open position and let it out. Amongst the things I said, I told him that what he'd said about his friend's dog had probably hurt his feelings and was horrible. I also exclaimed that I didn't know how he could manage to do so many horrible things in the short trip between school and home.
I ordered him to stay in the room for 10 minutes, at the end of which time I would open the door. This all went to plan, and he came out a changed chid. Totally pleasant, and seemingly relaxed.
It was, of course, my turn to feel horrible. I felt I'd criticised him, and done the thing we most try to avoid: shaming him, thus damaging his already poor self-esteem, which could in turn only produce further long-term negative consequences ... so maybe this calmness was nothing but an act, another layer of defence against the outside world, another barrier through which it would be even harder to get through and earn his trust. But he really did seem calm and relaxed. And cheerful.
The next day, I felt that if I had caused him to feel ashamed, I needed to point him towards some kind of way out. I suspected, though, that too much from me would make matters even worse. I brought up the big feelings that we both had the previous afternoon, and wondered again if his friend was upset. I said if he wanted, he could say something to his friend about it, like he didn't mean to hurt his feelings, and maybe even say sorry if that seemed like the right thing to do. I said it was up to him and didn't mention it again. Leaving a 5-year-old to make those kinds of decisions without further dialogue -- well, it might all be futile, I'll never know. But he was quiet, he listened, he didn't reject my comments.
And we haven't spoken about it since. But he has on the whole been better behaved, and cheerful.
Maybe he's relieved to hear the worst? Instead of responsible-parentspeak, he got some big emotions, but not out of control emotions, with some feedback. And at least I didn't say he was horrible, I said what he did was horrible, so I managed not to break that parenting commandment. So much of his behaviour seems to be about pushing people to their limits, about deliberately undermining situations, about refusing to do what is expected of him. On the other hand, he has slowly been forming better friendships of late with his classmates, so maybe that is why he is more relaxed. Maybe I should rename this blog "grasping at straws", because sometimes (sometimes???!!!) I really have no clue what's going on.
