I am not a saint, and I am not the soul of patience, or however that saying goes. It’s just that the consequence of not being patient and gentle with Zack (and our older son, Taylor) were too hard to deal with—so I learned to remain calm in the midst of … almost everything.
I remember one day in the grocery store when Zack was around 10 years old. We were leaving and he dropped to the floor and refused to move. I began to get angry and attempted to haul him to his feet. He began to escalate in noise and resistance, and there was no way I could lift his dead weight. To yell was not an option obviously, and wouldn’t have worked anyway. So I simply stood to the side and waited, occasionally saying, “Come on, Zack. It’s time to leave.” After about 10 minutes he stood up and walked out with me.