a true story about big feelings
The Piece in the Open Palm
One puzzle piece won't click, and she's pressing so hard with both hands that the whole board is about to fly.
the realization
My hands went in to fix it before hers were done trying. When I took my hands off and just held one piece out for her, she stayed with it instead of throwing it.
She was on the rug with the puzzle, and one piece wouldn't click. She pressed harder. Both hands, whole body leaning into it. Then she told me the puzzle was broken, which is the kind of thing you can't really argue with at three.
have you ever felt this way too?
So I did the nice thing. The thing that feels like helping. You can do it, it's easy, look. And I reached over and clicked it in for her. It took me one second. That was the problem, I think. It took me one second.
She yanked it back out and threw it. Her face just fell. Not angry anymore, just flat, like something had gone out of her. And I sat there with my helpful hands in my lap.
So I took my hands off it. That piece didn't go where you wanted. That's so frustrating. Then I stopped talking, which is the hardest part for me. I picked up one piece and held it out on my open palm. I'll hold this one. You tell me when. She took it. Wrong spot again. She didn't throw it.
what I found myself saying
"That piece didn't go where you wanted. That's so frustrating."
"I'll hold this one. You tell me when."
"I stopped talking and just kept my hand open."
