"I hate talking. Don't make me talk about it."
That's what my first grader, Bub, says. Every time I mete out some sort of discipline, even if it's only a verbal rebuke, he responds by clamming up and refusing to talk. Which means that any discussion about what happened turns into a Mommy lecture, by default.
This was not working.
It was obviously a Mommy Mistake. But what was I supposed to do about it? I tried waiting a while and talking to him about it after he cooled down even several hours later, but he'd end up swapping his newly-found good mood for his previously-discarded bad mood again. I was out of ideas.
So when we had a blowup yesterday, I wasn't sure how to proceed. Bub had been bothering four-year-old Boo for a couple of minutes, despite my warnings. When I told Bub he needed to move away from Boo, Bub kicked him instead. Of course, this led to a howling protest from Boo, complete with plenty of tears. Bub, who has very little empathy for his brother, ignored these cries and started joking around with two-year-old Boash. Smiling. Laughing. Having a wonderful time while his hurt brother screamed in the background.
I was livid. I sent Bub out of the room because his joking was making Boo feel even more alone and upset. (I know from experience that helping Bub to show empathy at this point would have been futile.) We all calmed down a bit, and I went in and sat down next to Bub. He looked up at me, obviously dreading "the talk."
I took a deep breath. "Bub, I know that you don't want to talk about what happened. I also know that I think it's really important that we both understand what happened out there..."
"But I do know what happened out there, without you even telling me. So why do we have to talk about it?"
"The thing is, I'm not sure that we both think the same thing happened out there. Maybe we do. Can you write down what you think happened, and I'll tell you if I think the same thing happened?"
His eyes lit up. "Yeah!" He ran into the kitchen, grabbed a piece of scrap paper, and began to write furiously:
You were upset becaus I was doing a lot of stuff bad so you sent me into my room.
Okay, this was going to be harder than I thought. He obviously didn't understand exactly what happened, from my point of view. Would he let me tell him?
I sent you to your room because when I was upset and Boo was upset, you were laughing and smiling.
He looked at what I wrote, and it was as if a new app had just loaded into his brain. I saw in his eyes that he "got it" -- this is an issue I've been trying to emphasize to him recently, and I always feel that he's not getting it at all. But somehow, this mode of communication made things different. He scratched a huge check mark over the sentence. I tried again.
When you see that we are upset, can you try to see what is wrong and try to fix it? And not smile and joke?
Another big check, and a big smile. No grumbling, no clamming up. How did I not know this could be so easy?
"Can I write just one more thing?" I asked. I knew I was pushing my limits. His face tightened, but he let me take the pen.
I love you. Thank you. :)
He leaned toward me and snuggled into me. I kissed his head and held him tight. Then he jerked away and grabbed the pen.
I want to do this next time.
So do I, Bub. So do I.
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