4 playful tips for teaching emotional maturity
I’m sitting on a beach in Costa Rica watching a Spicy One kick and scream, laying facedown in the sand.
Minutes ago he was drunk with joy, riding the waves into the shore, his underwear filled with sand and wedged deeply in his butt cheeks. But something happened to upset. And then I watched his sister drop sand balls indifferently onto his back. Now he is in full meltdown. It’s got me wondering:
“How do we teach the Spicy One to get along with society without squashing their sparkle?”
I have different answers depending on my mood. (Protecting their sparkle is part of the Moms of Spicy Ones curriculum - join the waitlist if you're thinking about it). Without knowing your situation, I can tell you the most fun way to teach a Spicy One to do anything is through PLAY and laughter.
I was voted the yearbook’s official Class Clown of my Annapolis, MD high school. This was back in a time when one friend won “Biggest Flirt” (hello slut shaming) and another was robbed of “Best Legs”. The most accurate accolade was for my bestie Megan, who won “Big Woman on Campus”. She eventually married her “Big Man on Campus” counterpart and now she is the principal of our alma mater. She is the top dog leader of campus. Senior Superlatives do come true!
I have leaned on Class Clown behavior to get me through much of my neurodivergent life. I’ve never been great at knowing where the line is between “we are so glad you are here” and “it’s time for you to leave”. (Ask the couple I met at the pool yesterday). I’m also stymied by the demarcation between “That’s so helpful. Thanks for telling me the truth” and “Why would you say that? That was really mean”. Humor helps me feel around for the borderline.
Like a whale’s using navigational sonor, I send out my playful little jokes to strangers and beloveds around me. If a slight smile creeps up the corner of their lips: we are safe! Smiles tell me we are connecting. If their face stays impassive, unaffected than I figure not safe. I move on.
Your Spicy One has a unique sense of humor. They will drop something so profound and insightful that you feel like someone is filming you for an episode of Punked. How could they put into words what you only knew in your soul? (Like when Nate Bargatze, in his Netflix special, asked why would he know his children’s pediatrician's name or number. Why would a dad need to know that? My friends adored his down home shtick. I turned him off midway because I don’t need reminders of my feminine sherpa status).
And then a few minutes later, the Spicy One will dissolve into maniacal laughter that makes you a little bit scared for them, their mental health and their younger sibling’s safety.
Play is the great De-Escalater! I met the friendliest, most affable guy in Costa Rica this week. His bald head shined as he giggled at my jokes and teased his date. When he mentioned that he was an LA police officer, without thinking I blurted, “but how do you stay so kind doing such a harsh job?”
His eyes lit up and he said, “cause I know people. And I know how to de-escalate. If someone else is up here, (*he held his beer above his head*), then I come in down here (*he lowered his beer down to his hips).” That’s you! When the Spicy One says something tragic like “you’ve never been a good mom!” rather than take it personally and ramp up the conflict, try…
4 playful tips for teaching emotional maturity
Use art to draw the feelings with crayon that are festering inside. Extra credit for moving two hands at once in looping circles across the paper to stimulate bilateral integration. Initiate this by saying, “I’m sensing a storm inside you. Let's get this weather pattern on paper!”.
Role-play: Pretend to be the doctor or a visitor to your home and see if they know how to play their part of patient or host. Use an accent to heighten the silly. I’m still doing this with job interviews and my 20 year old.
Be the Fool: The Spicy One just said “our house is never any fun”? Pretend to be a cartoon character receiving the news. Take a fake kick to the belly, fall down, or cry “ I know and that’s why we’re taking you to a special place to pick out a new home but please let me live there too as the food maker!”.
Bet they can’t. Like an elementary school version of truth or dare, challenge them (like you have no faith) that they can’t take a breath while laying on their back, swelling only their belly (not their chest). Put a toy car on their belly button and chest to see which one rises while you count to 5. Meanwhile they learn the art of controlled calm-down breathing.
May you find the elusive energy to be playful this week. As always, scroll down to the bottom for This Week On The 'Gram.
Rooting for you,
Mary