Toughing Out Toddler Temper Tantrums

Family Friday

My youngest child turned three last weekend, and to celebrate, we visited the various attractions in Hershey, Pennsylvania (including Hersheypark in the Dark in 36-degree rain), as well as the new Hershey Story museum.  Although my older two enjoyed themselves immensely, the birthday boy threw a seemingly unbroken string of temper tantrums.

Anyone who has ever picked up a parenting magazine in a doctor's office knows that parents are supposed to ignore temper tantrums.  If you pay attention to them, or God forbid give in to them, you'll reinforce the behavior, resulting in even more tantrums.  I get it – we all get it.  We parents aim for words, not screams and tears.

A few months ago, one of our friends (annoyingly blunt and usually right) told us that our toddler is "controlling you through grunts."  My husband bristled, mostly because it's true – Danny often prefers to point and grunt, resulting in someone fetching the item in question.

And no, he does not have a speech disorder.  When it's convenient for him, Danny routinely rattles off sentences like "I want my candy bag!", "Where are my alligator slippers?", and "I want more milk, please." (Sense a theme yet?)  I think he has simply found that tantrums get more interesting results sometimes.  For instance, the other four of us have often gathered around him, mid-tantrum, studying him as if he were an alien or a two-headed dog, all the while shooting out hypotheses:
- "Is he hungry?"
- "Is he thirsty?"
- "Does his ear hurt?"
- "Is he tired?"
- "Does he just want to be held?"

Honestly, who could resist all that attention?  As my mom says, he's "no dummy."

Tantrums have increasingly emerged at the beginning of dinner, and I suspect he is bargaining for something tastier, like cookies or cake instead of "growing food."  In general, tantrums pop up when life does not unfold according to his wishes.  This past weekend, our family walked the three blocks from our hotel to the Hershey Story museum.  Danny decided that he did not want to walk or ride in the stroller; his goal was to be carried.

To communicate this wish, he stopped walking, sat on the ground, and started crying, while lifting his arms and gazing upward imploringly.  When my husband produced the stroller, all hell broke loose.  His body flailing like a trapped eel, his face bright red, he screamed the only words he ever uses in such a state: "Noooooo!" followed shortly by "Nooo wayyyyyy!"  He then locked his body into the strangely yoga-like pose that I have dubbed the downward-facing-Danny, pressed his forehead into his calves, and howled like a banshee.

Ignore the tantrum.  Fine, but we were outside, the wind was whipping our legs, and cars were whooshing by only a few steps away.  My husband finally did scoop him up, but carried him slung over his shoulder and upside down in an effort to render the carrying experience unenjoyable.

Inside the museum, the older two immediately gravitated toward the coloring table and decorated their own trick-or-treat bags (for toting around the museum and gathering Hershey products).  Danny rolled around under their feet, escalating the wailing and flailing.  My husband, always intent on solving the problem, asked him if he wanted to color along with the older two, which of course produced a "NOoooooooooo!  No Wayyyyyyy!"

My husband and I sat on a bench near the table, moving Danny closer to us so he wouldn't get stepped on (or trip up any elderly visitors).  After that, we tried to ignore him.

Completely absorbed in the coloring and crafts, the older two amused themselves for about twenty minutes, while Danny's tantrum continued unabated.  My husband and I forced ourselves to ignore him.  This was tough, as I could almost hear strangers' thoughts as they passed, which I'm sure included variants of:
- "Geez, why don't those people do something to shut that kid up?"
- "Look at those heartless parents just ignoring that poor child!"
- "I wonder if he has some kind of seizure disorder?"

Now there have been several times when Danny acted like this and we ignored it - and he turned out to have a raging ear infection or something like that.  We then felt like Ass Number One and Ass Number Two.  Could this be one of those times?

As he started to settle down a bit, I risked a glance at Danny.  And then I saw it – he was peering at me from between his splayed fingers, gauging my reaction.  When our eyes met, he drew a huge breath, then started screaming louder than ever.

Game over!  Now confident in our assessment, my husband and I tuned him out much more effectively.  Not long afterwards, Danny got up, approached his siblings, grabbed some markers, and started drawing.  He looked up at us and smiled – like the dawn breaking over the horizon, popping up and spreading across his face.  

After the museum, we went to lunch – one of those omnipresent chain restaurants (kids love 'em; we can't escape 'em, even out of state).  As we entered, my husband picked up Danny to expedite the process, launching yet another tantrum.  This time, although he was being carried,  he had not specifically requested this; therefore, it was bad.  Again, the yowls escalated, the face turned bright red.  I slid him down to the end of the booth, then rotated him so that his feet kicked the wall and not my ribs.  The ambient noise of the restaurant covered the shrieks quite well, so he became rather easy to ignore.  Toward the end of the meal, he suddenly sat up, smiled, and dove into his chicken fingers.

The day after we returned, he launched into a tantrum because he craved an unavailable juice box.  I plopped him on the floor and went out to the garage to sort trash for a few minutes.  When I returned, he was back to normal.

So, the lesson here:  ignoring tantrums does work, but it certainly isn't easy, especially if you're not sure that you've correctly diagnosed the situation (is it a tantrum, or serious illness or excruciating pain?)

Another lesson: we did overdo it that weekend.  The activities thrilled the older two, but overwhelmed the three-year-old whose birthday we were nominally celebrating.  Live and learn, I suppose.

By Jenny Douglas Vidas

Comments

[Lois]

I believe that I saw your family at The Hershey Story, and I thought you were doing a geat job with the tantrum. As a mom of a college student (male), I can assure you that this will pass!

[Jenny Vidas]

Wow - too funny! This past Sunday around 11:30 or 12?

[Betsy]

Too funny!! I'm expecting my first grandchild and can't wait to see how my son and daughter-in-law handle this. I love your honesty and sense of humor. Betsy