I have become a relationship counselor.
Of three year olds.
Fun.
Now please pardon me while I spread honey on my face and plunge my head into a red ant hill, cause really, that would be a lot less painful.

I spent all last year teaching these kids to use their words. That is like the mantra in the twos room at CHCC: “Use your words, use your words, use your words.” For instance, rather than snatching a toy from another child, we tell the kid to ask, “How many minutes?” The other child then might say “two minutes”. The kids have no clue how long two minutes is, but it gives both children a sense of controlling the situation. Child A is able to express his intent to have the toy, Child B is able to exercise a bit of authority on when he will relinquish the toy. That is an excessive amount of mediation, you might think, but trust me, when you’re working with a roomful of small children who have no qualms over maiming their peers with teeth, nails or any other random projectiles of varying weight and/or sharpness within arms reach, that little extra verbal effort is well spent. Imagine how overjoyed I was the first time I heard two toddlers negotiating all by themselves! It was grand! I didn’t have to do it anymore!

But alas, the children have learned to use their words for the dark side of the force.

Lately it seems like all I’ve been hearing are variations on the phrase: you aren’t my friend anymore. And that’s all it takes. The receiver of this sentiment totally wigs out and has a meltdown. The world is ending, Holy Disney, that kid who took my toy and then told me to go away doesn’t wanna be my friend anymore, will the gut wrenching, heart tearing pain ever end?!?! WAAAAHHHH!!!!

That’s when I step in. I hush the red faced, mucus soaked, pathetic little creature before me, assuring them that it’s okay, there are lots of friends in the classroom to play with. And teachers are always here to give hugs and talk to you. And don’t worry, the scathing harpy child hunched in the book corner that just tore your little preschool soul in two with her acidic words will most likely come back over to play in the next five minutes or so and all will be right with the world.

So recently I decided to try a new tactic. The other day three of the boys were playing together. Squirt, APRF and Trout (his symbol is a fish) were all playing around one of the doll houses. APRF had brought in two Power Rangers (were you surprised?) and was sharing one explicitly with Trout. Squirt, after trying to wait patiently for a turn, made several grabs at the Power Ranger in Trout’s hand. Trout took a step back and announced, “I’m not your friend, I’m only his friend!”
So Squirt started bawling and kept insisting, “No! You’re my friend. You can’t be his friend.”
I figured I’d better do something before the vein in Squirt’s neck exploded, so I pulled Trout aside and said, “I bet you were feeling mad because Squirt tried to grab that Power Ranger.”
“Yeah, APRF was sharing it with me.”
“Well, so, when you said you weren’t Squirt’s friend, did you maybe mean you just need to take a break from playing with him?”
“Yeah, I need a break.”
“Well, so how about, instead of yelling, just tell Squirt, ‘I’m taking a break right now, I’ll play with you later.’”
And that has actually been working out fairly well so far with almost all of the kids. Granted it’s a new concept so I have to remind them constantly to use “I’m taking a break right now” as opposed to “you’re not my friend anymore.”

This afternoon:
“You aren’t my friend anymore!”
“Squirt, what can you say instead?”
“I’m taking a break from you!”
“That’s better….”
“And I won’t be your friend for sixty billion days!”

They’ll get it one day….hopefully before I move to Belgium.