It was day three of winter break, and there had already been lots of tears, whining, and endless requests to watch TV.
A complete 180 from my last article, Power Struggles, where I shared how well things were going - how the behavior plan was working, how regulated our son seemed, how calm things felt.
Well… not this week.
“Mama, I just want to watch half a show. I promise I won’t cry when it’s time to turn it off. I’ll be good, I promise.”
“No.” Just no.
“Finley, I don’t want to talk about TV anymore.”
“Mama, can I have that candy?”
“Mama, can I have that cookie?”
“Mama, can I…”
It felt endless.
I kept wondering, Why did Thanksgiving break go so well, but this one started off so hard? Same kid. Same parents. Same tools.
I did what I know how to do. I increased the frequency of points. I praised the behaviors I wanted to see. I stayed consistent. And still… it wasn’t helping much.
Internally, I was frustrated. I wasn’t having fun. And this was winter break. Christmas week. This is the time we’re supposed to relax, slow down, enjoy each other. Instead, I felt like I was white-knuckling my way through the days.
What I realized was simple, but important:
Nothing was wrong.
We just needed a reset.
Not a new plan.
Not a tougher boundary.
Not more reinforcement.
A reset.
We were driving to my haircut, the car was quiet after I had taken about ten deep breaths.
“Finley,” I said, “let’s start break again.”
He looked at me from the backseat.
“This is extra, special time that we get to spend together. I want to have fun. I want to enjoy it. Let’s do a reset and start over. Let’s remember what we work on together - being kind to each other, following directions, working as a team. What do you think?”
He nodded. “Okay, Mama.”
And here’s the part that matters most, it helped. Not magically. Not perfectly. But enough.
Enough to soften and shift the energy.
Enough to reconnect.
Enough to remember that sometimes behavior isn’t about skill deficits or motivation, it’s about everyone needing a clean slate.
Christmas is often painted as joyful, peaceful, magical. And sometimes it is. But sometimes it’s overstimulating, dysregulating, and exhausting, for kids and adults.
The lesson I keep coming back to is this:
A reset is not failure.
A reset is wisdom.
Sometimes the most compassionate, effective thing we can do - for our kids, our classrooms, and ourselves - is pause, name what’s happening, and begin again.
No guilt.
No shame.
Just a reset.
And honestly?
That might be the greatest gift we give this season. 🎄