Finding the Reset Button
The reset button wasn’t something I had carefully thought out ahead of time as a positive discipline tool. It came to me one day several years ago when I was nannying for a family whose eldest child was one of the most challenging kids I had ever cared for. The combination of his strong firstborn personality, genius level IQ, and inconsistent schedules and discipline techniques applied by his overworked physician parents made for a little guy who thought he was in charge. No matter what they want you to believe, little guys don’t actually want to be in charge. It messes with their sense of security and safety when they feel like they’re the ones making the rules.
To complicate matters, Mom and Dad utilized punishment such as taking his iPad away and early bedtimes, and punishment flies in the face of everything I believe about positive discipline. However, at this particular time, they had instituted a “three strikes” rule and asked that I comply, and as they were the parents and the ones who paid my salary, I tried. I really did. This particular morning, though, he was headed for strike three before he was even dressed for kindergarten and I just can’t send a five-year-old to school feeling like he’s already failed at the day.
In a burst of inspiration (or desperation?), I sat down on his bed and pulled him onto my lap. He was pretty sure I was going to tell him that he had lost his iPad, so he started to sniffle. I wrapped my arms around him and said, “I bet you didn’t know that you have something on your body that I know!”. His sniffles lightened as he sat up a little, wiped his nose on his sleeve, and said, “What?”
I lifted his shirt and pretended to look all over his chest and belly, gently pressing various spots, then stopped right above his heart. I said, “Aha! There it is!” He felt around and said confusedly, “What? I don’t feel anything”. I replied decisively, “Why, your reset button! You didn’t know you had that? You may not be able to feel it, but it’s there for sure! Whenever you’re having a really tough day and you just feel like you can’t do anything right, you can just push your reset button and start the day all over again! Want to try it?” He looked at me a bit dubiously, but the thought of not losing his iPad won out pretty quickly and he played along. From then on, when he or his little sister were having a tough day, they knew that they could ask to use their reset buttons. I’ve since “found” my granddaughters’ reset buttons a few times when needed.
Young children spend very little time utilizing their higher brain skills. The parts of their brains that are responsible for logic, empathy, cause and effect, and rational thinking simply aren’t developed yet. It’s up to us to bridge the gap for them between their primitive brain functions and more developed ones. So often, we confuse can’t with won’t. More often than not when a young child is struggling with a behavior issue, it’s because he can’t regulate his behavior, not because he won’t.
Think of it this way: My six-month-old granddaughter just began learning to feed herself with a spoon. Now, she’s really quite young for this, but don’t tell her that. She loves to dip her spoon into her food and even occasionally gets some of it into her mouth. When she misses her mouth and makes a mess, should my daughter and son-in-law punish her for doing so? Absurd, right? Why on earth would you punish a tiny child for not mastering something that she’s not nearly old enough to master? Yet, that’s exactly what we do when we punish young children for behaving irrationally, illogically, or without thinking before they act.
This is the crux of why I love positive discipline and eschew punishment. Since “discipline” means “teach”, I can teach the children in my care better ways to respond to situations and give them a win at the same time. The reset button tells them, “You’re having a tough time making good choices. Let’s start over and I’ll be right here for you if you need help”.
Last weekend, I found myself on the other end of the reset button. I was feeling stressed about a project I was working on and trying to keep my house at least relatively clean. I sent my six and nine year old granddaughters up to clean their room. When I went to check on their progress awhile later, very little had been made. I uncharacteristically spoke to them in a frustrated tone and let them know that I was annoyed. The doorbell rang and after I answered it, I trudged up the stairs with a heavy heart. They were still not making much progress, and I realized that they needed more guidance than I had given them. More than anything, though, I just don’t get annoyed with my granddaughters, and I was beating myself up for doing so. I called them to me and said, “I need to ask you a favor. May I use my reset button? I’m sorry for acting annoyed with you. I don’t ever want to talk to you that way or make you feel like I’m annoyed with you”. Well, by this time, tears were running down my face and both girls threw their arms around me and offered their forgiveness.
It felt great. And it feels great to know that I’m able to offer the kids in my life the reset button whenever they need it. We could all use a reset button some days, couldn’t we?
