I'd like to start by clarifying that the young lady above is not one of my children, in case the accent didn't give it away. I was quite impressed with her point by point instruction on how to perform the perfect tantrum but I'm afraid, compared to Le Artiste, when he was at the height of his 'tantrum throwing ' days, she really is rather an amateur.
When Le Artise was three he learnt how to throw tantrums of epic proportions. These were the kinds of tantrums from which legends were born. Earth rocking, building toppling, extravaganzas. Subsequently Le Artiste didn't enter a shopping centre between the ages of two and five. Some kids get to have parties or go to theme parks for their fifth birthday. Le Artiste, he was allowed to go into a shopping centre, oh the joy and awe on his sweet little face, am I the best mummy in the world or what ?
Anyhoo, Le Artise's tantrums were quite a sight to behold and they followed a tried and true formula. It went something like this :
1) Stare at floor while mulling over reason for ensuing tantrum (generally the word 'no' was involved).
2) Let bottom lip drop and perhaps quiver, just a touch.
3) Scrunch up face and begin colour transformation, first red.
4) Second stage of colour transformation, purple.
5) Take a huge breath (the bigger, the better)
6) Wail, scream, holler, sob, whilst bunching hands into fists.
7) Drop to floor and perform a cockroach death spin (very important to maintain the vocal factor whilst performing the spin)
8) Stop spinning. Kick feet and pound fists on floor.
9) Forget what it was that had caused tantrum in the first place.
10) Kneel up, face upturned, arms raised into the air (think that final scene in Platoon)
11) Projectile vomit all over the place.
12) Fall asleep.
I found the most effective way to deal with these all consuming tantrums was to ensure that Le Artise was in a safe environment then to just step back and let him ride it out. Perhaps a polite golf clap at the conclusion and a score out of ten for effort and overall enthusiasm.
Ah yes, the memories that brings back. Now maybe people can understand my response when I'm asked if I plan on having any more children. "Nope, all is well and the baby factory has closed and bolted it's doors."