No one can be heartbroken like a four-year-old

[callunav]

My four-year-old's first session - which mostly consisted of him exploring my office and playing with everything (including the dollhouse! Wiktory!) while I alternated between engaging with him and asking his mother intake questions - ended in a colossal meltdown. Tears, wailing, sobs, frequent reiterations that he didn't WANT to go, he wanted to go on playing with the dollhouse furniture, he didn't WANT me to put away toys, let alone want to help out.*

I learned a lot, just watching him even that first time. One of the things I learned was that this child has an even harder time with transitions than most kids I've met, and is going to need a /lot/ more warnings leading up to clean-up time.

But mainly, I was just struck all over again by how, at that age, emotion is a full-body experience. Every quarter-inch of him was crying. I wonder when and how and for what reasons we lose that.

It's a pro-social adaptation, to be able to regulate that intensity, and I think helpful for the individual in a lot of ways, but still, there's something amazing about watching it. It's like being out in a really good summer thunderstorm.



* The rule in my office - learned at my internship - is that by the end of the session, all toys must be put away. The kid can do it, or we can do it together, or if the kid prefers, I will do it. It just has to get done before it's time to go. Being a therapist is different from being a parent.

Comments

[pameladean]

This is such a lovely description. And true from the inside, too. I was not much given to tantrums as a child, but I did have an epic one on a very hot, sticky summer evening when my mother told me it was time to come in and have a bath, and the thought of going into the horrible hot house (no AC) and taking a warm bath made me scream for ten minutes. Every quarter-inch is exactly how it felt. A total rebellion and then total woe.

A great tribute to the dollhouse, also, in your example.

P.