Two things happened at our den this weekend.
1. The kids slept in on Saturday morning for the first time. EVER. That is wonderful - and to be celebrated - because that means they are both finally feeling safe enough to sleep away!!! And that made me feel good!
2. W threw an EPIC (and I do mean EPIC) fit on Saturday. All because we told him he had to do his chores before he played the Wii. When he threw the fit, we grounded him from the Wii because of his reaction.
I need to say that the kids do not have chores every day. They don't even have them every weekend! We do a cleaning in our home once every two weeks. Why? Because life is too short to be cleaning all the time (right about here is where my husband strokes out over that sentence - and the fact that *I* wrote it).
So W's chores are: clean the toilet, vaccuum the stairs (with the dustbuster), take out the recycles, and dust. Granted, I make him clean the toilet about once a week (hey! He's the one with the bad aim!) and he takes out the recycles when the bin gets full. We're talking maybe a half hour of chores here.
That he threw a fit over.
So while he is cleaning the toilet, he's sobbing like I just kicked his puppy. Chris goes into the bathroom and explains to him that tears do not get the toilet clean, and to please use the bleach wipes (I kid, he told him to dry it up). He finishes that, and goes to his room, where I promptly tell him to go vac the stairs. While he is sobbing. He finishes that and goes to his room (are you catching the pattern?) I tell him to go dust. He starts sobbing again (I like kicking the puppy, ok?). I asked him what his deal was, and he tells me those three little words that I will not let them use as a standard answer to me: I don't know.
So I tell him to go ahead and sit on his bed for a while and think about it.
He does so. While sobbing.
At this point (I know, you're feeling for the poor kid. Has to dust - ugh!) Chris goes in and tries to reason with him (ha!) and explain the rules. All the while, W is kicking and whining and yelling and scrunching up his face and THROWING. A. FIT. Sigh.
Once we got through to him that throwing a fit would only delay the inevitable, and would not get him out of his chores, he started really laying it on thick. So we sat him on his bed to figure it out and went back to what we were doing.
Eventually, the child finished his chores. When I asked him if the fit was worth it, and showed him how little time it took to finish his chores and he could have been playing the Wii by now if he hadn't lost his shit, he told me he was sorry. I accepted his apology, and gave him loves.
Why is this a good thing? Because he felt safe enough to let his feelings rage, roar, and generally show his ass because he knew that we would get him through it.
Progress. We're doing it right!