"Remember the Ocean?"

When HD was still here a few weeks ago, we went down to visit FlyGirl and go to the beach. Fun times were had by all; however, Little Mister Heavy Duty had a complete and total breakdown during our beach day.

Many factors came into play that day, including late nights, early mornings, close quarters and the fact that he was going back to the OF (creatively nicknamed Ole Dusty Balls by my girlfriends here). The sun was beating down on us and, truth be told, we were all tired and marginally cranky. All the kiddos were playing with sand toys, but HD decided he wanted the bucket in order to catch minnows. The others wouldn't relinquish it for his plan and he started getting whiny.

As is my usual custom, I ignored him. As is his usual custom, he amped up the drama in order to get my attention. Soon FlyGirl and I were being splashed by an angry 6 year old. To make things even more difficult for him, we laughed and thanked him for cooling us off. Ruh-roh.

He eventually became more aggressive, so I decided to throw him for a loop and see if I couldn't bust him out of his funk by playfully scooping him up, walking him into the water, and plunking him down (it was a foot deep at most). I figured that would make him laugh, we would giggle and splash and play and be done with the bad attitude.

I'm not always right (just most of the time).

He immediately started screaming, crying, and thrashing. He was so violent that people all around us stopped to look (probably to see if I was trying to drown him). He kicked and punched the water, splashed me, took a few swings at me, and screamed with unfettered rage and fury. I stood there, letting him vent.

Eventually he sat down in the water and cried. I sat down next to him. The waves would come up and splash on his back, but we weren't close to deep enough for it to come over his head. He screamed louder every time a wave hit him. At some point I pulled him into my lap and let him sit there as the water rolled around us and he sobbed. Every so often I would ask if he was done so we could talk, but that seemed to make things worse, so I just sat with him in the water. After about 10 minutes of this, FlyGirl came out to talk with him. I told him I was going to go sit in a beach chair under an umbrella, and he was welcome to join me.

That's when the drama really kicked in and he screamed, "I CAN'T WALK!!!" After examining his legs and finding them without injury and fully functional, I offered to hold his hand, but he wanted to be carried. I told him no and walked to the chair and sat down. FlyGirl stayed with him a few more minutes and then joined me.

We watched as the screaming boy quite literally dragged himself across the sand towards us. Part of it wasn't so bad, because it was wet. The other part was hot and fluffy, the kind you really don't want to drag yourself across. He was not, however, giving either of us the satisfaction of seeing him walk. When he finally reached me, I slid him onto my lap. He began screaming about ouchies on his ribs. In the 10 feet of hot, fluffy sand, he managed to chafe the skin on his ribcage.

"That was a pretty bad idea, huh?"

He agreed and we chatted for a few minutes about needing to make good decisions even when we're angry. We talked about how he didn't hurt anyone but himself by crawling through the sand. He seemed to get it, just a little bit. Then I asked him if he knew how much I loved him. He recited, "More than there's sand on the beach, more than there's water in the ocean, more than there's stars in the sky." I pointed to one little grain of sand on his tummy and told him there were thousands of miles of beaches on the planet, covered with sand just like this. His eyes got big as he tried to imagine it all. (Teehee!) A few minutes later we got up and rejoined the fun. We went out deeper in the water and he bodysurfed, as well as played with one of the boogie boards. His attitude was mostly good for the rest of the day, with some intermittent whining.

The next day HD and I flew to NC for him to return to OF. After breaking all the rules and eating peanut M&Ms for breakfast (our flight tradition), I brought up the subject of his outburst. We talked about how it's ok to be angry, and how we need to find a safe way to let it out. I told him it was fine to punch and kick the ocean, because we can't hurt it that way. I confessed that I, too, had stood in the surf and screamed and cried before. He was amused by that. That's when I pulled out the heavy mom-teaching artillery.

"So when you were sitting in the water and you were upset, it made you angry when the waves hit you, right?"

"Yeah!"

"But when we were playing in the waves, you thought they were fun, right?"

"Yeah, I like bodysurfing!"

"So did the waves change from when you were sitting to when you were playing?"

"...........no......."

"What changed, Bubba?"

And a little, teeny, tiny voice snuck out, saying, "My attitude?"

He got it! He knew the difference, and although I led him there, he figured it out himself. I was so proud of him and me I could hardly stand myself. I smothered him with too much praise and then said, "Baby, all of life is just like that. The waves are gonna come, no matter what. It's our choice what to do with them. You get to decide whether to sit there and pout, or get up and play. One of them is definitely more fun than the other."

I could tell he was pondering it, so I let there be quiet for a few minutes. Then I said, "So, honey, next time you seem to have bad attitude, I'm just going to remind you to remember the ocean, alright?" He liked that idea. I've used it once since he has been gone, and although it didn't have an immediate positive response, it definitely changed the course of his attitude.

I'm fairly certain I learned more than I was able to teach that day. There have been many times over the last several weeks when I wanted to sit down and scream, but I think I'm going to try and surf instead.

One option is definitely more fun than the other.