Nina In New York: You're Doing Everything Wrong

A lighthearted look at news, events, culture and everyday life in New York. The opinions expressed are solely those of the writer.
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By Nina Pajak

Allow me to set a scene:

You are on the verge of attempting a feat extremely brave and daring, which is to exit the house with a toddler at a specific time in order to accurately execute on a previously decided upon plan. This, I know, is an audacious idea, but for the sake of the hypothetical let's pretend it's real. Your child is busy repeatedly "jumping over" a little toy on the ground and is perfectly uninterested in coming over to receive her shoes and coat. Finally, you physically remove her from her game and sit her down, at which point she tucks one foot up underneath her and wiggles the other one in front of you maniacally, making it impossible for you to do anything but bash your head into the wall. You grab her legs and shove her sneakers on. That's it! We're leaving.

Oh, no. Oh no, no, no. Did I just say sneaker? SHE WANTED THE BOOTS! BOOTSBOOTSBOOTSBOOTSBOOTS! NOOOOOOOOO!

Now, quite understandably, your child is frantically clawing at her sneaker-clad feet and wailing at deafening volume. When you try to pick her up, her bones become liquid and she hurls herself back to the floor, limbs flailing. Her face is red, she is crying so hard you fear she will pass out from oxygen loss.

Do you:

A) Tell her that her playdate is canceled, and she's not getting dessert ever again, and you're unenrolling her from ballet and you're never letting her watch another episode of Dora as long as she lives and you're going to make her take a nap RIGHT THIS MINUTE.

B) Tell her that if she stops crying she'll get an M&M, and if she cooperates and lets you leave the house she can watch a show on your phone, and you'll set up a tent at the playground and move there permanently, okay JUST PLEASE PLEASE GET A GRIP.

C) Tell her sternly "that's enough!" and attempt to initiate time out protocol.

D) Tell her calmly that you won't speak to her until she stops crying and then quietly ignore her histrionics.

Think hard. But think fast.

Trick question! The correct answer is (E) All of the above. Of course, both (A) and (B) produce a similar effect, which is simply more crying. (C) will also result in increased screaming, and (D) is a VIP ticket on the Psychotic Rage Express.

So now what? I'll tell you what. If you are like me, you involuntarily devolve into uncontrollable fits of laughter. It's like getting the church giggles, except instead of a disapproving congregation and a risk of personal humiliation, you're tittering in the face of a rabid, hungry tiger and risk an actual loss of mental faculties. And yet, you cannot stop. Now you are attempting to deliver sharp warnings and strict disciplinary threats through tears of hilarity. Or are they just regular tears? Who can tell anymore? It's sort of similar to being unable to stop laughing while someone is tickling you, even though all you want is for that person to stop so they can know how angry you really are. You are a sane, furious person trapped in the body of a cackling lunatic. The harder you try to stop, the more out of control you become. You're like an "SNL" cast member during a skit only the actors find irresistibly funny.

And then, for some mysterious reason, despite the incredibly inappropriate nature of your emotional response, it magically works. Something clicks in your child, and she catches your infectious laughter and the whole thing devolves into a beautiful moment between mother and baby. The tantrum is over. You may proceed with your plans.

Hahahaha oh gosh can you imagine? No, no, that's not even remotely how this plays out. Your laughing simply deepens her rage and you repeat steps A through D until she tires herself out and gives up or so much time has elapsed that it is, in fact, now naptime. Either way, it's important to keep in mind that your child probably won't spend the rest of both of your lives throwing this particular tantrum. It must eventually end, somehow. Then you can call your mother to tell her about it and get a little sympathetic support and instead be treated to a ten minute speech on how you and your sibling(s) never threw any tantrums as children. I'm looking forward to paying that forward in 25 to 30 years. The cycle of insanity must be preserved.

Nina Pajak is a writer living with her husband, daughter and dog in Queens. Connect with Nina on Twitter!