Demon Baby, as I've shared, has an unmistakable propensity for fighting. He sees the world as his battleground. I have tried to teach him a meditation, I have tried to get him to take deep breaths and say "om." I really have. I pull him on my lap, and I can feel his heart POUNDING out of his chest, he gets so worked up with these battles he must fight. His weapons can be anything from a fork, to his finger ("my gun!") to projectiles made from household objects.
What disturbed me most was that I could "see" him think. If he didn't get a reaction from Object A hurled . . . he looked for a heavier one. One that could hurt someone. And though he got time-outs and my own occasional utter melt-down of yelling, nothing deterred him.
But I tried to be consistent. I'm not perfect as a mother by any means. But I tried to always show him there was another way to be, a more peaceful one. "Deep breaths, Demon Baby. Deep breaths."
So the last few times he's worked himself into a frenzy, I have watched him look for projectiles . . . and then I see something else. A flicker of a conscience crossing his face. I can see him actually pondering if he wants to do mayhem or put it down. With the exception of last night, when he had a total meltdown, he has opted to put down his "weapon."
I think I'm making progress. Baby steps. But on top of that, there is something so beautiful about watching his face and actually seeing it move in a matter of seconds from anger to calm, as if I can SEE him thinking. In a world where people hide behind masks, where adults learn to not let their faces show what they're REALLY thinking . . . I love his openness.
I am hoping to make him a man of peace.
P.S. Picture from our march on Washington.