A Different Kind of Milestone

I try hard not to share stories about the same child two days in a row, but this was simply too poignant not to record.

Both of my boys are emotional. P's reactions to upsetting situations involve anxiety and freak outs. R, on the other hand, reacts with anger. His teacher, Ms. Wanda, and I have been working on using 'peaceful hands.'

A couple of weeks ago I made deals with all three children. If K could stop biting her nails "until the white part showed" I would let her get them painted. She decided she would rather have a Beanie Baby. R & P asked what they could do to earn a Beanie Baby too. Because P frequently has school work sent home that he did not finish in class, we agreed he could get one if he did not have work sent home for a week. R's deal was to use peaceful hands at school for one week straight.

I confess that I thought it would be a long time before any of my children would receive their promised prize...but never underestimate the power of a motivated 5 year old. This morning K flashed her hands at me...and for the first time in 2 years I noticed her nails needed trimming.

I looked at the calendar and realized both boys had also met their goal, so this afternoon we purchased Skunkers the skunk, Slithery the snake and Ming the panda. It was a short-lived victory for R.

Tonight when I picked the children up from choir, their teacher informed me that R had thrown a bean bag with quite a bit of force that hit his friend, Jack, in the face.
"Was it on accident?"
"No, ma'amb," he muttered with his head hanging low.
"Were you angry?"
He nodded his head up and down.
"Is that using peaceful hands?"
"No, ma'amb," he pouted.
"Well, it looks like Slithery needs to spend some time with me until you can find your peaceful hands again."
"But I wanted to sweep wiff himb!!" He began to cry.

We live only about a mile from our church, so the discussion was still fresh as we came in the backdoor.
"Can I at least take Slithery upstairs and put him in my woom?"
My husband and I agreed that was not a good idea.
He dropped his head and walked into the dining room and crumpled into a pile in the corner, facing the wall.
"Let's go upstairs for bed, buddy. It's late."
He didn't respond, so my husband walked over and picked him up to point him towards the stairs.
"Stop!" he cried. " I was twying to do what Ms. Wanda taught me. She says when I am angwy I need to go find a quiet corner to count in until I don't feel so angwy anymow-a. I need to stay here and count," he said as he fought back tears.

Seriously, it may well be the proudest I have ever been of that sweet boy. I got tears in my eyes and a tight knot in my heart as I watched him battle the strong pull of his emotions and choose something better. And while there are a lot of things you can try to teach your children, something like self control just seems to come with maturity.

In retrospect, I am even thankful that the way he chose to deal with it is not something I taught him. I know that sounds crazy, but I might be tempted to take a little credit if it were so. (Just keeping in real.) Instead, I got to marvel at how God is working in my son's life. My hot-headed boy is growing up to be a young man I am proud of.

It was as precious of a moment as watching K ride her bike down the driveway independently...and this milestone will take him much farther in life.