Skip to main content

The Crying Room

When I was younger, my mom would send my siblings and I to a different room if we were bawling or throwing a tantrum.  Her reasoning was simple: she didn't want to deal with it.  So she came up with a very simple solution; the tantrum thrower in question would go to the other room, and let the tantrum run its course.  She would go about her usual day, and at some point, the kid and the adult would meet back up again to carry on with their day, minus the shenanigans.

Now, you might think that a kid throwing a tantrum would be a poor choice for someone to leave unsupervised.  Heck, I know a similar thought has crossed my mind before.  However, my mom somehow made it work.  She managed to convince all three of her children that a trip to the crying room was not an invitation to cause mischief, despite the fact that we were in a foul mood and we technically had no direct adult supervision in that moment.  I'm not even sure that she had to put the fear of all that is holy in us in order to accomplish this.  For whatever reason, it was understood that we were not allowed to trash the room, and we upheld our end of the deal.  All in all, it worked out pretty well.

Well, as I am wont to say, habits die hard.  So my mom's habit of sending someone to the crying room didn't disappear; she just didn't have an opportunity to put it to use.  Now that she cares for younger children, she has an opportunity again.  And, so, our house has seen the return of the crying room.  It works pretty much like I remember it, and kids who are generally not fit to be among decent company earn themselves a trip to the crying room.

Things have changed slightly since my toddler days, though.  The bedrooms are on the far end of the house, and they often house sleeping babies.  Since waking one of them up via a screaming toddler isn't an option, the (nearer) bathroom has been re-purposed to serve as a crying room.  We keep the bathroom clean, and the rules are the same (e.g., don't cause a ruckus in there).  It seemed like an odd choice for a crying room to me, but darn if it didn't work.  Babies still get their sleep through tantrums, kids throwing tantrums cry themselves out, and adults nearby don't have to put up with nonsense for too long.

In fact, it's gotten to the point now that one of the kids has actually said to my mom, "I want to go to the bathroom to cry!"  Think about that for a second.  A 4 year old recognized that she was behaving inappropriately, and that she should remove herself to deal with said behavior in private. Actually, I take that back, this kid preemptively excused herself when she knew she was about to start bawling.  What's more, the kid also adhered to the rules of the crying room.  When she was done, she washed her face, and very calmly came back to join everyone else.  There was no yelling, no discipline was involved, no threats were made, and no bribes were offered.  Instead, the situation just defused itself.

What's even more amazing to me is that I've seen the same behavior from pretty much every kid that comes through our house.  Two year olds will act the same way, and I've never once had to clean up after a trip to the crying room.  It's no fluke, that much is for sure.  Given all this, I've decided two things:

  • My mom has magic powers.  Getting a little kid to act anywhere close to reasonably in the middle of a fit can be tough.  Doing so to lots of little kids, repeatedly, with unerring accuracy requires nothing short of magic.
  • Should I ever have kids, I'm installing a crying room in my house.  I may not have magic powers, but it's still worth a shot.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

All Good Things ...

August 8, 2009. Over twelve years ago, I started blogging with this simple post . I didn't really have a great reason for starting the blog, other than I wanted to try it out. I wanted to try writing and putting it where others could read it. I don't know, it just seemed like a new adventure to try. Along the way, there have been all sorts of posts and all sorts of life events, but through it all, I kept writing. It just became a part of what I do at some point. It wasn't a matter of whether I was going to write a blog post, it was a matter of when. The Mild Wife has described it as a "writing practice," and it was one of the reasons why I kept writing. Honestly, it's good practice, and it gives me an opportunity to hone my craft. I'm no professional author, but we all have to write stuff in our everyday lives. Why not give yourself reps to get better at it? However, I think it's time for that practice to change. My weekly anecdotes sure kept me amused...

Dreams

Normally, I don't eat very many sweets. I tend to eat pretty generous portions, but I generally prefer savory food over sweet. In fact, I usually prefer things half as sweet when possible. My preference doesn't have anything to do with health reasons, it's just one of those things that I've always liked better. That said, I do inevitably eat dessert, particularly if I'm out with other people. My stance towards dessert is roughly equivalent to those who are social drinkers . If other people want to munch on something for dessert, I'm not about to cross my arms and refuse. That'd be just a tad gauche. So, I do eat some dessert. I even have a few standby favorites that I'll usually order when presented with them (brownies, creme brulee, and apple pie). But left to my own devices, I'm not about to go hunting for dessert. Apparently, this means that the sugar can really mess with my system under the right circumstances. As I've discovered, ...

New York City Trip (Day 1)

After my crappy flight , I was now in Newark, New Jersey at 7AM on a Friday morning. I had done a little bit of reading up, so I knew which bus I needed to take and where I was going to get off. All in all, getting into the city was surprisingly easy. I suppose speaking the language does make things simpler. Through no real planning of mine (a theme of the trip, at least on my part), I picked one of the later bus stops at which to get off, Grand Central. I actually just figured that getting off at Grand Central would give me options, and heck, it's called Grand Central. That just screamed "decent place to disembark that might be close to some stuff" to me, so that's where I got off. However, it also meant that we drove down 42 nd St to get to my bus stop. That just happens to be a big street, and it gave me a glimpse of Times Square as we drove by. My bus stop choice had accidentally given me a rough layout of the city. Go me. I had about 6 hours to kill...