Recently, I was complimented on the behavior of my son and how responsible and mature he is for fifteen. It was nice to know that, regardless of where he goes and whomever is there, he knows how to act in a way that makes a good impression on himself.
The acquaintance then asked me how I managed to control the behavior of a teenager. I don't. I molded the behavior of the toddler he was to influence the comportment of the young adult of today. You have to be a parent all their lives to mold the person they are becoming so that they have the self-confidence to know how to behave with class in all situations. That's not always easy, nor is it always fun - but it is always rewarding.
The one big test my son threw at me when he was little comes to mind as I think back on parenting him. He was two - not newly two, but not super close to three either. I was taking him out to dinner at the end of the work week. He liked to go out to eat and was pretty happy with things at the start of the evening.
We got to the restaurant and I settled him in and asked what he wanted for dinner; he made his choice, we ordered and all was well. He suddenly turned to me after the waitress had taken our orders to the kitchen and said, "I want dessert first." I explained that after we ate our dinner and all our veggies, he could have the little treat that came with the kids meal. "No. First."
My usually well-behaved little boy suddenly threw the first all out tantrum he'd ever had. You know the kind? The one where other Mom's look at you with sympathy and relief that it isn't them? I leaned in, told him he had 3 seconds to stop that unacceptable behavior or we were going home and he would not have his dinner or dessert, but bread and water. One,...two,...three.
Non-plussed, he redoubled his effort to break all tantrum records. I gathered our things, picked him up and stopped at the hostess booth on the way out the door to give them my cell phone number and pay for our dinner, plus a nice tip for the waitress. I told them I'd wait for our food in the parking lot and we would take it to go, if they would call me to come in and get it.
A few minutes later, they actually brought the food to the car for me (probably so I didn't bring my screaming child back inside). We went home and by the time we pulled in at the house, he had calmed back down and was quietly looking at me with curiosity. I didn't say anything about the incident.
We went in; I got him in his PJ's and we went downstairs to the kitchen. I put him in his booster chair and put his bib on, set a plate in front of him and saw his downcast face as he looked at the bread on the plate and the cup of water. He looked up at me and I said; "Son, I know you are disappointed. I am too. I'm disappointed because you behaved poorly and we didn't have a nice dinner out tonight. I told you what would happen and you didn't listen to me. Let's eat and get to bed, tomorrow will be better." After he ate, I put him in bed, read him a story, said his prayers, kissed him goodnight and we both shut the book on a learning experience.
I went downstairs and wept for my lack of wisdom in diverting the tantrum. I felt I had boxed myself in because once I told him the consequence, I had to follow through or I'd have no credibility with my son. I felt like the worst Mom in the world that night.
My son has never acted up in public again and he has never forgotten that lesson. Consequences matter.
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