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Authors: Cathy Glass
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jump on the bed or leave his room. It was imperative that I kept going until I had achieved what I had set out to: Reece remaining in his room and playing until I had washed and dressed and was ready to go downstairs. If I gave in now, it would set a precedent for all the future mornings and wouldbe harder to change at a later date. As with so many behaviour issues, retraining relies on consistent and firm boundaries — i.e. endless repetition of the expected behaviour.
‘I need you to play in your bedroom until I say it is time to get dressed,’ I said over and over again, while picking out another toy or book, or starting a jigsaw.
Eventually, after another fifteen minutes, when Reece was probably as bored as I was with the sound of my voice repeatedly saying the same thing, he started to dive into the box of small McDonald’s toys of his own accord and began playing with them. I stayed for another five minutes, and then said: ‘Good boy. Now you carry on playing while I get dressed.’ I came out and closed the door.
I waited on the landing. A minute later Reece flung open his bedroom door and was about to zoom off again. I lightly caught hold of his arm and led him back into his room, where I resettled him with the toys. I told him again what I wanted him to do — to play quietly while I got dressed – and I came out and closed the door.
I waited on the landing and a minute later Reece appeared again in what I took to be full shark attack, snapping and yelping at the top of his voice. Again I returned him to the toys in his bedroom and, restating what I wanted him to do, came out. He reappeared and I resettled him, time and time again, doing what I had anticipated having to do the night before when I’d put him to bed.
Finally at 6.30 a.m., an hour and a half after Reece had first woken and got out of bed, he was playingwith his toys in his bedroom, and I had the time I needed to shower and dress. He wasn’t particularly quiet — he was making noises which sounded as though they could be part of the pretend play – but at least he was doing what I’d asked. I knew I would probably have to repeat the resettling process every morning for a week or more, but the investment of time and effort now would reap rewards later, when Reece would wake and automatically play with his toys until I told him it was time for him to dress and come down for breakfast.
It was Friday, and a school day, so I woke the girls at seven (being teenagers, they had managed to go back to sleep despite all Reece’s noise). Then I knocked on Reece’s door and went in. He was seated, as I had last left him, cross-legged on the floor, now surrounded by the entire contents of both toy boxes. I told him he was a good boy for playing nicely in his room; then I said that although it was still early, he could get dressed and come down if he wanted to, or he could stay and play with his toys.
‘Telly?’ he asked. I hesitated. I wasn’t sure I wanted him watching television at this time in the morning. It could become a habit, which certainly couldn’t continue when he started school.
‘OK, but only for a little while.’ I switched on the television and found some children’s programmes on BBC2 which Reece recognized, presumably from having watched the series before. He immediately fell quiet, completely transfixed and absorbed by the screen. I could see only too clearly the great temptation ofleaving Reece in front of a television for longer periods than were good for him.
Half an hour later, with the girls washed, dressed and having had their breakfasts, I knocked on Reece’s bedroom door and went in. He was, as I suspected he would be, still seated in the same position on the beanbag and riveted to the children’s programmes.
‘Good boy, Reece,’ I said. ‘I want you to switch off the television now, get dressed and come down for breakfast.’
He didn’t answer, so I repeated the instructions; then, taking out clean
‘I need you to play in your bedroom until I say it is time to get dressed,’ I said over and over again, while picking out another toy or book, or starting a jigsaw.
Eventually, after another fifteen minutes, when Reece was probably as bored as I was with the sound of my voice repeatedly saying the same thing, he started to dive into the box of small McDonald’s toys of his own accord and began playing with them. I stayed for another five minutes, and then said: ‘Good boy. Now you carry on playing while I get dressed.’ I came out and closed the door.
I waited on the landing. A minute later Reece flung open his bedroom door and was about to zoom off again. I lightly caught hold of his arm and led him back into his room, where I resettled him with the toys. I told him again what I wanted him to do — to play quietly while I got dressed – and I came out and closed the door.
I waited on the landing and a minute later Reece appeared again in what I took to be full shark attack, snapping and yelping at the top of his voice. Again I returned him to the toys in his bedroom and, restating what I wanted him to do, came out. He reappeared and I resettled him, time and time again, doing what I had anticipated having to do the night before when I’d put him to bed.
Finally at 6.30 a.m., an hour and a half after Reece had first woken and got out of bed, he was playingwith his toys in his bedroom, and I had the time I needed to shower and dress. He wasn’t particularly quiet — he was making noises which sounded as though they could be part of the pretend play – but at least he was doing what I’d asked. I knew I would probably have to repeat the resettling process every morning for a week or more, but the investment of time and effort now would reap rewards later, when Reece would wake and automatically play with his toys until I told him it was time for him to dress and come down for breakfast.
It was Friday, and a school day, so I woke the girls at seven (being teenagers, they had managed to go back to sleep despite all Reece’s noise). Then I knocked on Reece’s door and went in. He was seated, as I had last left him, cross-legged on the floor, now surrounded by the entire contents of both toy boxes. I told him he was a good boy for playing nicely in his room; then I said that although it was still early, he could get dressed and come down if he wanted to, or he could stay and play with his toys.
‘Telly?’ he asked. I hesitated. I wasn’t sure I wanted him watching television at this time in the morning. It could become a habit, which certainly couldn’t continue when he started school.
‘OK, but only for a little while.’ I switched on the television and found some children’s programmes on BBC2 which Reece recognized, presumably from having watched the series before. He immediately fell quiet, completely transfixed and absorbed by the screen. I could see only too clearly the great temptation ofleaving Reece in front of a television for longer periods than were good for him.
Half an hour later, with the girls washed, dressed and having had their breakfasts, I knocked on Reece’s bedroom door and went in. He was, as I suspected he would be, still seated in the same position on the beanbag and riveted to the children’s programmes.
‘Good boy, Reece,’ I said. ‘I want you to switch off the television now, get dressed and come down for breakfast.’
He didn’t answer, so I repeated the instructions; then, taking out clean
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