Fortunately, I'm pleased to report that I have managed to keep my cool the last couple of times my kid(s) have acted up. Naturally, it always seems to happen at the end of the day when I have zero cool left in my system so this is a momentous development for me. I'm either finally maturing as a parent or I've been secretly lobotomized. Either way, it works for me!
Last night, Giggles threw a tantrum in the middle of dinner. Crying, kicking, screaming, etc. For people who are used to watching kids melt down, it probably didn't even register that high on the tantrum Richter scale. Heck, she didn't even throw herself on the floor, and her screaming barely even carried past the bedroom (which is where we ended up). Nevertheless, it was loud and startling. But rather than reach for my chancla (or my Croc) or my preferred method (yelling), instead, I gently picked her up, soothed her, and carried her to the bedroom, where I had to wince against her little screams in my ear and bob and weave around her little kicking feet to get her into her jammies. Then, I held her close and hummed her a lullaby until she calmed down. Then, I laid her down and told her a story about a beautiful little princess named "Giggles." My storytelling being what it is, she promptly fell into a fit of giggles, and we had a really nice time finishing the story together. Then, we hugged and kissed and said "I love you" to each other one or ten times. Then, she closed her eyes and fell asleep. As most parents can attest, nothing is sweeter than watching one's child sleep. I could have watched all night and still have begged for more. Ahhh...