I had a child come to me crying and stand in the crook of my arm wailing in unintelligible German. I’d like to help the poor guy, but I haven’t the slightest clue as to what he’s saying. So I ask him to take a deep breath with me so that he can calm down and I can understand him better.
Child: “IT DOESN’T WORK!”
Me: “What, breathing? Come on, let’s try it.”
Child: “I’M TELLING YOU IT WON’T WORK.”
Me: “Okay…what about counting to ten? Let’s try that. Come on, 1, 2…”
Child: “NO! THAT ALSO DOESN’T HELP! NOTHING HELPS!!! WAAAAAA!”
Me: “Okay, okay! Something has to help to calm you down. Think of something, tell me, what helps you to calm down a little bit?”
Child calms down for a second and looks me dead in the eyes and says, “Food.”
Apparently if I had had toast on hand, everything would have been fine and I would have helped him put his Legos back together and avoid the scene.
An emotional eater at five years old? I didn’t realize it started so young, but maybe I should have…