After 10 minutes or so of not hearing from him, I went looking and found him sitting at the kitchen table, coloring. I returned to my work. Ten minutes later, I checked in on him to find that several crayons had fallen to the carpet. No harm done. Did Holden want something to eat? Yes, he did. I told him to pick up the crayons while I fixed him something really super-good, like pitted dates with walnuts and Asagio cheese. Well, something along those lines anyway. As I was about to hand him his gourmet treat, I noticed that the crayons were still on the carpet.
This time, he folded his cute little face into a defiant pout and crossed his arms across his chest, like a turtle going into its shell. I love a challenge, especially from a child. In this case I was aware that sooner or later Holden and I were going to have this confrontation. I was rather glad, actually, that it was sooner. I also know that if you give a child an inch, the child will take a mile, and that the best time to deal with this and put things in proper perspective is the first time it comes up. So I walked behind his chair, pulled it gently away from the table, hoisted him out of it and took him to the crayon-ground. I put my right hand over his right hand and put our hands on one crayon - up it came - then another, and so on. Then I stood up, still holding him, and put him back in the chair. I stood in front of him. He was mad now! He was glaring at me!
I shook my finger at him and said, "You don't say `no' to me, Holden. Got that? You don't say `no' to me. You will sit in this chair until you tell me that you are sorry."
And I walked off, busying myself with preparing a shipment of books. Holden sat for at least 15 minutes, during which I said nothing to him, and he did his turtle-thing. Finally, he called to me.
And Holden was a happy boy again. I doubt that sort of problem will come up between us ever again, but if it does, the procedure will be familiar to him. I did something similar to our first grandchild, Jack, when he was 2 and threw a tantrum at our house. In that case, I put him on a sofa and held him there until he stopped, telling him that at our house all tantrums had to be thrown on the sofa, and that I would gladly sit there with him until he stopped.
A year or so after this incident, a television person looking for scandal asked Adele Farber, the co-author of "How to Talk So Children Will Listen" and "Listen So Children Will Talk," what she thought of what I'd done to Jack. She was appalled. I had certainly taught him, she said, that "might means right." Ms. Farber will no doubt be greatly relieved to know that Jack, age 12, is a polite, respectful, well-mannered young man who is anything but inclined toward aggressiveness. He and I have lots of fun together.
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