Picking up the kids from day care is often a drag, because of the combination of me being worn from a full day of work and Aaron throwing at least one tantrum between school and home. I await the day our special instructor Maria can meet me there, so she can see Aaron's pyrotechnics firsthand and give me advice in real time.
Yesterday, despite a harrying and frustrating day at the office, I decided I would just be mellow when it came to Aaron's antics; instead of fighting him, I would give him room to do or not do whatever he was fussing for. So when he drank the ocean dry at the water fountain and drenched his shirt in the process, I sat back and smiled. While he washed his pacifier in said fountain for two whole minutes, I thought happy thoughts. He sat down and handed me his pacifier so I could wash it some more - no, not the fountain on the left, he motions with his hands, it's the one on the right.
Jacket, scarf, and hat on, he sits down, I buckle him in, and slip his gloves on. Ah, but there's a strap dangling from the stroller that he simply must buckle himself. So I take the gloves off, wait patiently as he fumbles with the strap, and put his gloves back on when he is finally able to snap the snap in. Deliberately, I back us out of the building and on to the street.
Not a peep out of our human volcano. I'm almost certainly not going to repeat this approach - it was killing me that we couldn't move faster, sometimes we really do need to rush home, and it can't always be about whatever he wants no matter what. But at least for one day, no fireworks.
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