I get to help you deal with those big feelings.

In the past 6 months B has mellowed out a ton with his sister. He used to be really be aggressive toward her, but lately, I think it's more normal sibling antagonism, which is a lot easier to handle.

Let's just say that B's aggressive stage has been super hard. Especially when a lot of outside people have told us to be aggressive back - spank him, bite him back, yell at him, etc. Those things just never made sense to me - how in the world do I say "We don't hit" and then hit him?

Don't get me wrong, it hasn't been easy, but we've come leaps and bounds in the past year.

But today. Oh, boy. Today.

I was getting stuff out to make dinner and the babes were playing outside (oh, don't get your panties in a twist. The door was open and I could see them the whole time).

Suddenly, I hear H scream. Truthfully, I don't pay a ton of attention anymore when she screams, because she screams about everything. A gnat flew within a mile of her - scream. Someone looked at her cross-eyed - scream. I've come to know when her screams actually mean something.

This time, it did.

I looked up and saw her on her bike, B a foot away from her with a look to slay. I sprinted out the door just as he raised both little hands and clobbered her shoulder and arm.

"Whoa!" I shouted, pulling B away from H and immediately showering H in love. "Oh my goodness, that must have hurt, mijita! Are you okay?"

She cried for a second but then was, of course, fine.

Honestly, whatever it was, she likely started. She really loves pushing him over the edge. And B only has as much self-control as the next 3 year old. Regardless, we obviously don't condone violence - of any sort.

"I think you need to come inside with me to calm down," I said to B, who was all ready crying. I sat him on the kitchen counter and gave him a glass of milk while I finished seasoning the cod and put it in the oven.

When we were both done I looked at him all bleary-eyed and pitiful. "Wow," I said, "You must have been really frustrated to hurt your sister like that."

He looked at me and snarled, "She hit me!"

"And that made you mad?"

"So mad!"

I nodded. "It would make me mad if someone hit me, too. And it would make me sad. Because we don't hit, most especially people we love. But you all ready know that."

This time B nodded.

"What do you think we should do next time you get so mad that you want to hit your sister?"

He shrugged.

"What would Daniel Tiger do if he got that mad?"

Immediately B beamed and sang the famous (in the preschool-world anyway!) Daniel Tiger mad song, "When you get so mad that you want to roar - take a deep breath and count to four. 1-2-3-4." Then he stopped and looked at me and said, "But Momma, sometimes it doesn't work. I'm still so mad."

I nodded. I understood. If I had a dollar for every time I need more than just a count to four to not be so frustrated, I could afford to send my kids to college. Now. And get their PhDs.

"Do you know who I am?" I finally asked after thinking about his comment for moment, taking his tiny hands into mine and making sure I was eye-level with him.

"Momma," he answered.

"That's right. Do you know who's Momma I am?"

"Mine," he replied.

"Do you know what that means?"

He shrugged his tiny shoulders.

"It means that I get to help you whenever you need help. I get to help you deal with those big feelings. And if you are so frustrated that you just can't handle those big feelings all by yourself, you come find me no matter what I'm doing, and I will always stop and help you. I want to help you with those big feelings because I'm your momma."

"What will you do?" he asked me.

"What do you want me to do to help you?"

"A big hug," he answered.

I wrapped my arms around that sweet, tiny body. "I will give you a great big hug any time you want. And probably a lot of times you don't want. You're my best boy."

"You're my best mom," he smiled.

And that was it. I helped him off the counter and watched him run outside to his sister. He enveloped her in a great big hug and she reciprocated. He kissed her cheek. My heart melted.

I won't lie, this gentle, peaceful parenting stuff is not always easy. Sometimes I have to count to 4 myself, or more like 400, but it's interactions like these, that make me realize that it's all freaking worth it. Because man, these kids are amazing little people.