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I recently wrote about why we should be grateful when our little ones throw a tantrum. But aside from understanding that a tantrum is normal and even healthy, what else can we do when we’re actually in this kind of high-stress moment with our kids? I don’t believe parents should ignore a tantrum. When children are truly out of control, that’s when they need us the most. We still need to set clear boundaries, but our response should always be full of love, respect and patience.

Here are seven suggestions for dealing with a toddler’s tantrum:

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View the whole gallery here.

Few experiences any of us undergo are as transformative as parenting.  By definition, parenting is about transformation.  One of our most important jobs as parents is to witness and influence the evolution of our children from wrinkly newborns with raw nervous systems into integrated, whole humans who know who they are and how to be in the world.  And parenting obviously transforms us as well.  There are smaller transformations—we learn to do most things “one-handed” while carrying a baby on our hip; we begin to eat at McDonalds; we memorize the names of dinosaurs; we learn to play video games again; we even buy a mini-van (which for some is a bigger transformation than for others).  And there are huge, life-changing transformations—we adjust our priorities; we make sacrifices that cost us greatly; we learn to live with worrying and “what ifs”; we forever expand our hearts.

Along the way, we become more creative than we ever knew possible.  I’m not talking about the creativity of artists, song-writers, or novelists.  I’m talking about the creativity that’s required for survival for anyone caring for children.  I knew I’d been forever transformed by my role as a parent when, in my attempt to get through to my non-compliant little streakers, creativity sprung forth from desperation and I made up a song with a chorus that began, “No naked butts on the furniture.”  (Unfortunately, it was so catchy that one day I actually found myself singing it in the car by myself.  As I said, parenting changes us.)

What’s more, transformation isn’t limited to people.  We can also use our creativity to transform moments, so that the situations and circumstances we face can change into something else.  Moments can be transformed for the worse, like when our downstairs brain shifts into overdrive and a sweet, bedtime cuddle turns into a fierce battle, complete with crying, wailing, and gnashing of teeth for all involved.   But likewise, we can transform moments for the good of ourselves and our children, so that an ordinary, everyday parenting challenge is converted into an opportunity for growth, connection, and relationship.  And to do this, it almost always requires creativity.

Creativity allows us to transform a battle and a disconnection into an opportunity to bond, to play, to teach, and even to develop the higher parts of our kids’ brains.  I don’t always achieve this lofty goal, but when I’m able to, I’m reminded of just how powerful it can be when we use our creativity to transform the moments we’re given.

For example, while eating at one of our favorite Mexican food restaurants, I noticed that my four-year-old had left the table and was standing behind a pillar about ten feet away.  As much as I love him, and as adorable as he is most of the time, when I saw his angry, defiant face coupled with his repeated tongue-thrusting aimed at our table, “adorable” wasn’t the a-word that came to my mind.  A few diners at surrounding tables noticed and looked at my husband and me to see how we were going to handle the situation.  In that moment, Scott and I felt the pressure and judgment of those watching and expecting us to lay down the law about manners at a restaurant.

I clearly saw two choices as I walked over and crouched down eye-level with my son.  Option #1:  I could go the traditional “Command and Demand” route and open with a clichéd threat uttered in a stern tone:  “Stop making faces, young man.  Go sit down and eat your lunch or you won’t get any dessert.”

At times Option #1 might be an appropriate parental response.  But knowing my little guy, this verbal and non-verbal confrontation would have triggered all kinds of reactive emotions in his downstairs brain —the part scientists call the reptilian brain—and he would have fought back like a reptile under attack.

Or, Option #2:  I could tap into his upstairs brain in an effort to get more of a thinking—as opposed to a fighting/reacting—response.

Now, I make plenty of mistakes as I parent my boys (as they’ll freely tell you).  But just the day before, I had given a lecture to a group of parents about the upstairs and downstairs brain, and about using everyday challenges—the survival moments—as opportunities to help our kids thrive.  So, luckily for my son, all of that was fresh in my mind.  I decided to choose Option #2.

I started with an observation:  “You look like you feel angry.  Is that right?”  (Remember, always connect before you redirect.)  He scrunched up his face in ferocity, stuck out his tongue again, and loudly proclaimed, “YES!”  I was actually relieved that he stopped there; it wouldn’t have been at all unlike him to add his latest favorite insult and call me “Fart-face Jones.”  (I swear I don’t know where they learn this stuff.)

I asked him what he felt angry about and discovered that he was furious that Scott had told him he needed to eat at least half of his quesadilla before he could have dessert.  I explained that I could see why that would be disappointing, and I said, “Well, Daddy’s really good at negotiating.  Decide what you think would be a fair amount to eat, and then go talk to him about it.  Let me know if you need help coming up with your plan.”  I tousled his hair, returned to the table, and watched his once-again adorable face show evidence of doing some hard thinking.  His upstairs brain was definitely engaged.  In fact, it was at war with his downstairs brain.  So far we had avoided a blow-up, but it still felt like a dangerous fuse might be burning within him.

Within fifteen seconds or so, my son returned and approached Scott with an angry tone of voice:  “Dad, I don’t want to eat half of my quesadilla.  AND I want dessert.”  Scott’s response perfectly dovetailed with my own: “Well, what do you think would be a fair amount?”

The answer came with slow, firm resolve:  “I’ve got one word for you:  Ten bites.”

What makes this un-mathematical response even funnier is that ten bites meant that he would eat well over half the quesadilla.  So Scott accepted the counter-offer, my son happily gobbled down ten bites and then his dessert, and the whole family (as well as the restaurant’s other patrons) got to enjoy our meals with no further incidents.  My son’s downstairs brain never fully took over, which, lucky for us, meant that his upstairs brain had won the day.

Again, Option #1 would have been perfectly fine, even appropriate.  But it also would have missed an opportunity.  My son would have missed a chance to see that relationships are about connection, communication, and compromise.  He would have missed a chance to feel empowered that he can make choices, affect his environment, and solve problems.  In short, he would have missed an opportunity to exercise and develop his upstairs brain.

And I hasten to point out that even though I chose Option #2, Scott and I still had to address the misbehavior part of the incident.  Once our son was more in control of himself, and could actually be receptive to what we had to say, we discussed the importance of being respectful and using good manners in a restaurant, even when he’s unhappy.

Challenge met, opportunity seized, moment transformed.  (This time, at least.)

As parents, we look for all kinds of ways to teach our children, to nurture their development.  And it’s great to take them to the museum, to piano lessons, to the observatory, to a baseball game.  But we also want to pay attention to the rich, minute-by-minute opportunities we’re given, and creatively transform these moments as well.  What this requires—and there are plenty of times when I’m not very good at doing it—is that we take ourselves off of auto-pilot and look at each moment with fresh eyes.  And though it isn’t easy by any stretch of the imagination, when we can step back and achieve a certain amount of critical distance from the situation at hand, that’s when we can begin to transform moments.  And really, that’s just about the most we can hope for as parents.  We can work hard to remain watchful for moments—hundreds of moments, large and small, throughout the day—and transform them, and allow them to transform us and our kids as well.

That’s why we’re used to filtering what we say to or in front of our kids.  Sometimes we have an internal dialogue that might include phrases like, “You’re driving me crazy, kid!” or “Are you EVER going to stop crying?” or “I can’t wait until you go to sleep!”; but we know not to say these things out loud to our kids.  We’re also aware that we should avoid talking about inappropriate subjects in front of our kids, so we wait until they’re asleep before we tell our spouse about how our neighbor’s house was robbed or about the latest community scandal.

We pause and make a decision about what we say before we share things with our children. We do this because we know that what we say matters and has an impact on them.

But just as important as what we say is how we say it.  Imagine that your three-year-old isn’t getting into her carseat.  Here are a few different how’s for saying the exact same what:

• With clenched teeth, squinted eyes and a seething tone of voice: “Get in your carseat.”
• With eyes wide, big gestures, and an angry tone of voice, you yell: “GET IN YOUR CARSEAT!!!”
• With a relaxed face and a warm tone of voice: “Get in your carseat.”
• With a wacky facial expression and a goofy voice “Get in your carseat.”

You see what I mean.  The how matters.

And even the words we choose are part of how we communicate an idea.  For example, at bedtime you might use a threat:  “Get in bed now or you won’t get any stories.”  Or you could say, “If you get in bed now, we’ll have time to read.  But if you don’t get in bed right away, we’ll run out of time and have to skip reading.”  The message is the same, but how it’s said is very different.  It has a different feel.

Both ways model for them ways of talking to others.  Both ways are setting a boundary.  Both ways deliver the same message.  But imagine for a moment someone saying each to you.  Which one would you prefer to hear?  How would you respond differently to each?

Just like we pause and make a decision about what we say to our children, we should pause and make a decision about how we say things to them.

It’s the how that determines what our children feel about us and themselves, and what they learn about treating others.  Plus, the how goes a long way towards determining their response in the moment, and how successful we’ll be at helping produce an outcome that makes everyone happier.

1.     Why did my child act this way?  If we look deeper at what’s going on behind the behavior, we can often understand thatour child was trying to express or attempt something that they didn’t handle appropriately.   If we understand this, we can respond more compassionately, more proactively, and more appropriately.

2.     What’s the lesson I want to teach in this moment?  The goal of discipline isn’t to give a consequence.  The goal of discipline is actually to teach, but we forget this easily.

3.     What’s the most effective way to teach this lesson?  Answering this question may allow you to be more creative and effective in teaching the lesson, instead of just doing the same thing over and over.  In fact, answering this question may reveal that your current practices aren’t actually teaching the lesson you want to teach in the best way—or, it might make you feel great about what you’re doing.