Broken Glass

Today, Troy was having a temper tantrum, because I was trying to get him to go take a nap. He wanted to continue to sit at the table and pick at his food and watch his TV show. In his flailing frenzy, he managed to grab hold of the glass bowl he was eating out of. I saw him grab it. I saw him pull it toward him. I knew he was going to pull it off the table. And I let him. I could have stopped it, but I didn’t. I wanted him to break it. I wanted him to see the negative consequences of his anger.

So, he pulled the bowl off, and I watched it head toward the floor and shatter into a hundred pieces. The deafening crack of the glass hitting the tile scared the bejeezus out of Troy. He stopped his flailing and got very still, staring in shock at the broken pieces of the bowl; covering the dining room, the kitchen, and the den. Then, he started crying. An inconsolable wail as the fear set in. I picked him up to comfort him, but I also told him that that was his fault. That was the consequences of his anger and tantrum.

I don’t know if he’ll get it. But sometimes you sacrifice a bowl to teach a lesson. I could have grabbed that bowl today, but I won’t always be there to do that. He’ll need to learn to control his emotions and express them in a less violent way. And if he doesn’t, there will be consequences. And my consequences for not stopping it? I now get to clean up all the pieces of broken glass.