A-ha!

I occasionally have an “A-ha!” moment while parenting. I love them. These moments occur when you find a solution to a lose-lose situation. A good A-ha! moment gives you a new way to think about an old problem. It gives you a fresh start. It gets you to win-win.

Here’s an example. Not long ago, my five-year-old son wouldn’t go pee. I’d watch him dancing and running in circles like a bee in a hive, pinching his placket, hopping from foot to foot, and he’d still refuse to go. Most days, he’d pee in his underwear before he’d break down and go to the bathroom.

I tried to stay out of it because it looked like there was full-scale war emerging between his will and his bladder. Me trying to force him to pee would be like throwing an extra army into the mix, and he really did not need that. Moreover, my intrusion would probably not be well received. Imagine if the Brits had chosen to invade during the American Civil War: I believe the Yankees and the Rebs would have lined up shoulder to shoulder and shot them in the pants.

So I was neutral on the outside. On the inside however, I could feel his tension. The anxiety was so ripe that my ears would start buzzing and ringing when he was doing the potty dance. I got short of breath. I bit my tongue rather than yell at him, “Toilet! Use the toilet!” I felt like an audience member at a horror movie, wanting to yell at the unsuspecting main character who doesn’t know that an unspeakable terror is creeping up from behind. “Look out! You’re going to have to change your underwear!!”

Really then, it was for my own mental health that half my brain was problem solving, while the other half acted surprised and sympathetic when he peed in his pants for the fifth time that week.

Then I had a brainstorm. A game called Sink the Toilet Paper. I am sure you’ve heard of it. You might have even played it. Mom throws into the bowl little bits of toilet paper, which magically, in the eyes of a five year old, become invading enemy ships, naval or aerial depending on the day. Said boy, in his mind, becomes a top-ranked and highly sought-after military stategist intent on defending his home turf. His eyes narrow to calculating slits while he takes aim with his mighty tool and sinks all the enemy craft. His deadly work done and puffed with pride, he zips up and saunters—I kid you not, he saunters—out of the bathroom and back to his real life filled with deep, profound, soul-nurturing satisfaction.

That was a successful strategy. I’ve been feeling pretty good about that one for a while.

Therein lies the beauty and delight of the Aha! moment. It is the right idea at the right time, a simple re-working of things. And everyone, including mom, comes out smiling—maybe even sauntering.