I don’t remember where I first heard about warm fuzzies and cold pricklies. Maybe like, 1st or 2nd grade? I also remember my mom calling me a pistol. At the time I really had no idea what that meant. I just knew it wasn’t good.
My son has been a bit… ahem… out of control. I have many a proud parenting moment but probably a few more shameful ones than I care to admit. He is, by all definitions, a pistol. He must be like me. He is unruly, completely chaotic, so stubborn and pigheaded, and extremely energetic. It makes for quite the exhausting day. I didn’t realize how insane our dynamic was truly until Little Bee’s arrival. Because now I have someone to compare him to. Little Bee is laid back, loves reading, and just wants to hang out. She loves snuggling and being carried. Boo never liked snuggling and if I tried to carry him he would wiggle out of my arms and run away. That last sentence was past tense. It’s really present, though.
In any event, it’s been a struggle with him, to put it mildly. Lately though, it seems like he’s kind of coming around. He’s 5 now. Not that that’s old age or anything, and not that I should expect much out of him as far as listening and behavior is concerned. I’m happy as long as what he does is age-appropriate. Which at times is sometimes a hard pill to swallow, what with all the running, screaming, wrestling, and destruction of toys.
But lately it’s been kind of a different story. It’s almost like he’s starting to see the cause-and-effect relationship between his behavior and how adults respond to him. This morning was a particularly stressful morning — for me. After he and Little Bee had been playing all morning, I told him it was time to get ready for school and to please get his shoes and jacket on. Instead of making the choice to put his shoes on, as I politely asked, he lured Little Bee down to the basement with him where they started running amok. No big whoop, right? Sure. But in the heat of the moment, I lost my cool. It’s hard enough disciplining him but when I have her simply following his lead and running away from me, it drives me bananas. After our blowout over going to the basement vs. putting on shoes, we got into the car and drove for a bit in silence.
Then I told Boo about warm fuzzies and cold pricklies. Warm fuzzies are things that make us feel happy, safe, and warm. Like hugs and compliments, listening and behaving. Cold pricklies are things that make us feel bad. Yelling, screaming, hitting, pushing, not listening and getting into trouble.
It’s like a lightbulb went on after the warm fuzzy/cold prickly conversation. We have both been using our words appropriately. We have been giving out warm fuzzies like they’re going out of style. And instead of being mad about something, we talk about it and give each other a hug — a warm fuzzy — and move on. Granted this is only one day, but added together with the other improvements in his behavior the last week or so and this is giant leaps and bounds!
I hope tomorrow we don’t start our day with cold pricklies. Warm fuzzies are so much better.
xo
