He’s not a serial killer!

In our house, it wasn’t so much the terrible twos, but the fucking fours and fives. Jacoby would have violent “fits” that left my husband and I utterly bewildered. We tried everything: time outs, toy removal, positive reinforcement, and (gulp) even spankings (which just suck for everyone)…but nothing worked. I read books (all the books) and wanted so badly to believe that this was normal behavior, but it was fucking hard. We learned that the more we yelled, the louder he got. If we spanked him, he just hit us back. (For the record, when I say “spank” I am referring to a light tap on the ass; when I say he’d “hit” us back, it was more of a close-fisted punch in the face). We’d despairingly joke that our beautiful little boy was a total sociopath and that it was our responsibility to teach him a Dexter-like code so he wouldn’t murder innocents as an adult. I spent a better part of that year crumbled and crying, knowing that we were failing him…but we got through it.

Thankfully, after a rough transition to kindergarten, Jacoby outgrew the violence. Now, as an almost-7-year-old, aside from accidentally torturing the carpenter ants he finds in the house (he calls them his pets and locks them in Lego houses), he hasn’t skinned a cat, or shown too many signs of being a future serial killer. He still doesn’t totally embrace authority and somehow innately believes that he’s the boss of the house, but at least the fits have waned. My biggest struggle was learning how to harness his aggression without totally crushing his spirit, which is honestly what makes him so special.

I am obviously no expert at momming (I try, I fail, I try again) and will never tell others how to parent, but a system of reward and penalty simply works for our family. More than ever, we live day by day with endless bribes and threats—”You can plan Angry Birds if you finish your schoolwork,” or “clean up your toy room or you’ll lose your bike (again)”—but, my once psychopathic son has grown a lot since the days of bitch-slapping us across the face. We talk a lot. Usually after he argues himself out of tv or a bike ride to Anna’s house. But after the fact, he’s rationale, able to accept (and understand) the consequences, and eager to try to be better.

I felt I had to share our history for this next part to resonate. Jacoby loves Scooby Doo and as a reward for being awesome (despite these crazy times), we bought the newly released movie Scoob. [Side note: I’ve half watched this twice and have no fucking idea what it’s about or why half the Hanna-Barbera squad makes an appearance]. At the end (spoiler alert), the very best of friends Shaggy and Scooby, get separated. Both times we’ve seen it, Jacoby has cried real tears. He is empathetic and caring and has so much good inside of him.

If not Scoob or Onward or fucking Up, I do think watching your child/children experience raw emotion is pretty incredible. We’re far from perfect, but we’re doing the best we can. And, he’s not a serial killer!