Max is in a rare bad mood this afternoon. After a short-lived playtime with a friend in which the friend refused to play Star Wars according to Max’s directions, I intervened and sent the friend home. For the good of the galaxy.
Max stomped around the house and slammed a few doors and threw a couch cushion on the floor. I sat him on my lap and explained that it’s fine to feel angry and frustrated, but it’s not okay to slam doors and tear apart the couch. He explained that he was not angry, he was MAD! So I gave him the speech again, using the word “mad” and he agreed that he would not slam any more doors or tear apart the couch.
Before I left him to revel in the land of MAD as he requested, I offered to find a kids’ show on TV.
“OK,” he said with his funny furrowed brow, “find me a violent kids’ show to watch.”
