This arrived by email:

The snow kept us up all night (as we have a squawking window) and we are all tired this morning. Dexter was very playful and kept running back to a plug for Christmas lights he was told over and over by Laura to not play with. Surprisingly, though we are all tired and weary, no one lost their cool after the 20th time in a row of Dexter wandering back to the plug.
 
Okay, that’s the setup… now, I think this was a great result and behavior by all. Dexter was just playing a game and shouldn’t have been too reprimanded for that. But the continued and seemingly intentional direct defiance could easily put one into a defensive “I said” posture. How can I remember in the future in moments like this that this outcome was ultimately much more satisfying for all?
 

By way of background, Dexter is 14 months old.

Matt doesn’t ask the question I expected ("Did we do right not to reprimand?"), but a far more subtle one: “This interaction felt good – how can I remember to do it again, when my knee-jerk may be to respond in ways I don’t like?”

* Um, Remember! It worked. Success feels good. We tend to remember and repeat things that lead to a good feeling. Pursue the good feeling, and you’ll usually do right. I’ve been working lately on a radical dictum, which this exemplifies: “Easier is better.” That’s for another post.

* Calling it “defiance” puts a negative spin on the qualities involved. Do you want a kid who stands up for himself? Thinks for himself? Explores his world? Tests limits? All those qualities are on continua, where you also hope for some compliance, mutual problem solving), caution and restraint, even occasional willingness to trust your judgment and experience.

* What we could call the Action X Result matrix in this situation is unbalanced. Say you don’t reprimand. If that’s a mistake, which I doubt, the result will be one with a slow build-up – based on very many such incidents, Dexter may gradually come to not listen to you when he should. But say you flair out at him – yell, pull him away from the plug, lecture him. Kids are resilient. But I think things like this have single-incident potential. We are wired to remember springs with sweet water. But we’re wired even more strongly to remember that this waterhole has a saber-tooth tiger ready to grab us. There are times as parents when we have to act – have to be the bad guy – have to be the hard-nose. But sometimes when we think we have to act, it’s just a cover for our own emotional reaction. “I can’t let him get away with that!” leads to a fight between two children, one child a couple decades older than the other.

* So far as I can tell, the Terrible Twos run from about now until four or five, then take a rest until hormones hit. I don’t know how the parenting myth is structuring those years right now, but to my way of thinking, they aren’t terrible at all, but a necessary exploration. Who am I in relation to others? It’s critical to work this out; otherwise, you end up with someone who is living at home at age 45. It’s the main business of adolescence – separating, becoming your own person. Dexter is getting started on this long, tricky game.

* I think the best guide through what are sometimes very difficult moments is to keep your eye on your longest-range goals. You’re helping shape an adult. What qualities do you want that adult to have? What relationship do you want with him? The light plug is one interaction among hundreds of thousands. Each contributes. When he brings his kids over for Christmas thirty-five years from now, what sort of person do you want to greet when you open the door?