- Shawn Basey
- Feb 19, 2025
- 7 min read
The kid roared. The museum was pounding out some soft, reverberating downtempo beat overlaying some stereotypical Chinese-sounding music, while Chinese people in deep focus and concentration were focused on serving their tea to their guests. But we didn’t stay to figure out what the scene was about. The kid was furious.
And our own senses of shame and embarrassment were growing by the second. A sense any parent can be familiar with.
We pushed the screaming infant on to the next room, where there was a weird glass thing with a laser shooting into, the light split into a prismatic display moving in the opposite direction as the rotation of the exhibit.
I didn’t know if my sense of underwhelm was because of the artwork or because of the wailing tyrant. But we shuffled along and got out of there, conscious of all the splintered ear drums we left in our wake.
What had set him off this time?
The BRIGHT festival, which is normally a brilliant collection of works to brighten up the winter mood, proved to be a lackluster display this go round. But it wasn’t disappointment with being herded through a dark and empty museum—other than the tea ceremony, mind you—that set him off.
It was the gift shop.
It’s almost always the gift shop.
He begged his mom to buy a little Andean pan flute. His wailing began then. They consulted me and I said, “Maybe it’s a bit hard to play and we shouldn’t buy it. That’s my opinion.”
My opinion is often invalid. He buried his face into his mother’s shirt and she couldn’t resist the canny little museum-shop gypsy. It was indeed too hard for him. And ever Chinese serving agent from here to Beijing would know the tale of the boy who couldn’t play pan flute, I tell you what.
Evolution and tantrums
I read somewhere in something more learned than any of my writings that the tantrum came about by evolution. It was a way for children to survive. They weren’t getting what they wanted, so they would throw a tantrum.
This really makes no sense to me.
When I hear a whining kid at maximum decibel, my first instinct isn’t to pacity, it’s to chuck the little bugger out the window.
I’m kidding. I’ve never gone the full defenestration a la Prague. But the temptation has certainly been there (“Defenestration Temptation” sounds like a great title for my next track). And I certainly can’t imagine that tantrums have ever improved the infant mortality rate.
Initial reactions
When you first witness a tantrum from your kid, age 2 or 3, you don’t know what to do. It’s easy to take it personal and to return a tantrum with a tantrum. Or, thinking that the child is rational enough to throw a tantrum, it should be rational enough to ease himself out of it if they just heard the sound logic of your argument.
It’s an easy thing to lose it and shout back. Or to threaten. Or punish. But none of that really works. For one, the tantrum-thrower is a freaking child, not an adult. Don’t expect adult responses or reactions or any application of logic.
Stay calm
Instead you should calm down. Take a deep breath. One book I read, that was written for kids, was about an “anger volcano”. That the kid should identify their anger, step away, take deep breaths, and calm down.
Well, it’s total bullocks advice for a 5 year old who’s flipping their top. They can’t think that straight. Their “volcano” has well and exploded. But you know what? You can follow that advice.
Take a deep breath.
Remember: It’s not about you.
It’s not even about the present situation so much.
There are other underlying issues that have led to that tantrum. Keep that in mind. You have a few strategies you can deploy, but otherwise just remain calm.
Zoom in
I like to do a thought experiment. I zoom in to my 5-year-old’s experience.
One time, we were walking through the park. He heard that I was making spaghetti for dinner and that lit his wick. “What kind of noodles?” he asked. I could tell by the slight tremble in his voice what was to come. It didn’t matter the kind of noodle that I was going to say. No noodle would be good.
We all have the same sense of world crushing importance in our worldview. Let’s say you can assign points, 10 points for “end of existence” and 1 point for “it’s a fly”. But we can only assign points based on our actual experience with things. So identity theft of my bank account would rank probably an 8. That’s some big, hefty stuff. Wrong noodle choice would probably be about a 2.
But for the kid who’s got no experience of identity theft or owning a bank account, those things don’t even register. The absolute worst thing in his subjective experience was that one time he ate a noodle that was a little too flat. Totally ruined his meal, which ruined his day, which ruined his week and month. Because it was a huge, effing deal (again, relative to his subjective experience).
So when we’re dealing with kids, and hell, when we’re dealing with other adults, we have to remember we can only relate to them on terms of their relative experience. Yes, you might think you’ve been through worse, but actually, you haven’t. Because that world crushing factor of 10 feels just as soul-destroying no matter what gets that score.
A flat noodle IS identity theft, for all emotional values of x.
Causes
But, is the noodle really the problem? Was the pan flute really a problem?
Well… probably not. But that’s also the same as when adult flips out and loses control. We can experience some pretty horrific level of stuff as long as other, primal conditions are being met. And so can kids. I’ve sat down and explained heavy stuff like death and moving to my kid and he barely bats an eye. Instead he’s curious about it, processing it, and so on.
But only if he’s got his primal needs met.
The real causes of a tantrum can usually follow under a few categories: tiredness, hunger, boredom, overwhelm, need for attention, or testing boundaries.
So when traveling especially, and when it would really put you out to deal with a tantrum at the moment, you need to make sure you’ve met those needs so that your kid can brave much worse experiences like The Nightmare Airport of Istanbul.
Tactics
How you immediately deal with the tantrum greatly depends on the place you’re in. Are you in a museum? A café? At a park? Consider your circumstances, your surroundings, who is around. And remember, most people give their sympathies to the parent. Unless the parent flips out, and then they get all judgmental and think, “That’s why the child is having a tantrum, because they have shit parents.”
Removal/relocation
If you’re in a place that would disturb other people, like a museum or theatrical performance, then simply remove the child from that place. There’s no reason to punish other people because you can’t get your kids’ needs met. Just kidding, again, back to rule one, don’t take it personal.
But really, you should get your kid out of there. You decided to have a kid, you decided to bring them to that place, and you need to have the flexibility and maturity to calmly take them outside without throwing a fit yourself. You know how many movies I’ve had to miss since I had a kid? It used to be my favorite activity. Actually I had a lot of favorite activities I don’t do anymore…
Distraction
When they were a toddler or a baby, they might have been easier to deal with. Probably because we don’t anthropomorphize a baby as much as we do with an infant. Shake a rattle to distract, shove a nipple in the mouth to feed, easy peasy. With a child, we don’t think, “Oh, they’re tired/hungry/overwhelmed”, we think, “that rat bastard just won’t behave!”
But really, they’re just being a big baby. That haven’t grown out of that theatrical overreaction yet. Try some of the same tactics as you would have when they were a baby. But just make sure you take it outside too, nobody wants to hear you being goofy during “Midsummer Night’s Dream”. That’s Puck’s job.
Comfort
Same as above. Again, it’s not about you. And sometimes even if you could address their needs, they’re must not capable of seeing that their needs have been addressed. Sometimes all that serious bad shit that’s happening, like flat noodles, cold wind, stinky room, night peeing, etc. is all just building up inside them and they gotta unleash it and that’s the time to unleash.
That’s okay.
And just tell them that’s okay.
Sometimes they just need a good cry. And you can’t do crap about it. But you can be there for them with a hug.
Ignore the stares and advice
When they’re having a public tantrum, people are going to stare. They’re going to talk. Especially single people without kids. I remember being single and without kids. I remember how judgy I was. Well, now it’s my turn to be judged. That’s fine.
The old concept of honor had very little to do about how you felt about something inside. But it had everything to do with how your actions were perceived by everyone else. An honorable man acted in a way that everyone perceived was honorable. Honor was a kind of social reward.
Same thing here. Be an honorable parent. Act in such a way that people minimize their judginess. And I know people are thinking when they’re reading, “That’s BS, I do what I want!” Yes, you do, and everyone judges you for it.
Explain
When the dust has settled and the tears are dried, bring up the tantrum to your kid. “What was all that about? What can I help you with?”
Maybe they’ll admit they were hungry or tired and you can talk about it.
Maybe they really were just overwhelmed.
When we were home later, after the museum visit, I asked my kiddo again. “What was all that about?”
“It’s just too hard to play.”
“So you were frustrated?”
He nodded his head.
“You know you can learn to play. Everything is hard when you first try something. But you just got to try over and over and you’ll eventually get it.”
And you know what? After we passed that little pan flute back and forth, he finally made a sound.
