Beyond the Shadow of a Pout
Hygiene Chronicles | March 20I hate sulking. There, I said it. Sulking totally sucks.
Some parents have a crier; some have a whiner. We have a pouter.
Drives us nuts. Our son will come up and ask “Can I watch another movie?” or “Can I have a snack (ten minutes before dinner)?” Most times, he’ll get a polite “no” with a brief explanation that he’s already watched his movie for the day or that dinner will be served shortly.
Instantly the head looks to the floor, he pouts and walks away at a snail’s pace. Drama is not wasted on this kid. (Obviously from his mom’s side.)
We’ve tried to counter this with a brief explanation that we’re not mad, but that sometimes things don’t work out the way you want them to.
Silence. Dead silence and no eye contact. And this pouting thing last a good 45 minutes some nights.
ARGH. Where did I get a kid like this? I never would have done this to my parents. (looks both ways to see if parents are reading blog.)
I hope it’s a stage he’ll grow out of soon. Does this happen at your house?
My son is turning into a cross between crier and whiner. He just turned 1 so he’s experimenting on which one will to get on mommy and daddy’s nerves.
I almost wish he’d turn into the pouter. At least that way I can go about my business and not have to stick ear plugs in.
I’ve tuned out the dogs though. I guess eventually I can tune out the cries…
I get that with both barrels, meaning both of my daughters do it. And despite being twins, one has more drama queen in her than the other.
Christopher was a rager. These weren’t your garden-variety tantrums. They were rages. Sophie’s a pouter, and at least they’re quieter and much easier to ignore.
My son is a teenager. They have the patent on pouting. He’s pretty good, though. The Wife calls him on it, and he eventually laughs himself out of it.
I’ll trade you my screamer for your pouter. Ahh…imagine the silence.
About 50% of the time, Sprout sulks. She stands at the edge of the couch or table and folds her arms in front of her and puts her head down on her arms. The other 50% of the time, she repeats her question, only louder and more shrill as though somehow we didn’t really hear it the first time and she just has to make us understand. I’ll take the sulks. We let her stand there a few minutes with her head down so that she feels like she’s made her point and then we tell her that it’s ok, we still love her, and we can talk about it again later. The screeching, on the other hand, tends to inspire responses like “Not now, Not Later, and maybe, not EVER”…
We have a whiner. I think that I would prefer a pouter. At least it doesn’t hurt your ears!
I would welcome pouting. I have to perform an exorcism every time my kid doesn’t get his way.
Clare’s not quite a whiner and not quite a screamer, but definitely not a pouter. When she’s angry, her entire face turns mean and this deep, slow and determined voice comes out of her like she’s possessed. Thankfully it doesn’t happen that often.
I have a whiner…I’d rather havea pouter!
We have what we call the “Happy Boy Chair”. It’s for whining, pouting, fit-throwing, etc. The rule is “sit until you’re all done crying/whining/etc. and then you can get up”. Then he has to come to me and I say, “All done? Okay, now smile!” and he gives me a big grin through his tears and I grin back and we move on. Works great every time. If he starts again, I take him back to the chair. the smile breaks the tension.