We’re good at meltdowns in this house. I can pull off a spectacular one, though have had less need lately. Connor, on the other hand, has an ongoing, intrinsic need to completely lose his cool on a fairly regular basis.

This is normal for toddlers, I know. Occasionally – very occasionally – I find it funny. This is huge progress, mind you, because I used to absolutely lose it when he lost it, and that was all kinds of not pretty. One of the reasons I know I’m getting better at tolerating his meltdowns is that I’ve developed my own little rating system. The Code: Meltdown System has three levels.

The characteristics of a Code One Meltdown include:

• Dropping to the floor in a puddle because he didn’t get what he wanted (see also: Things the Books Don’t Tell You, item #2).
• Refusing to brush his teeth.
• Flopping around on his bed like a chubby, soft little fish in cute jammies because he doesn’t want to go to sleep. Usually accompanied by on-and-off tears and the wail of “I don’t want to go to sleep!” which means he’s tired.
• Throwing something, but gently because he doesn’t really want to invoke the Wrath of Mama.
• A brief bout of tears that subside when the appropriate response is given to the arms-raised, sad-face “up” gesture.

With a Code Two Meltdown you get:

• Ongoing tears that don’t respond to normal efforts to provide comfort and a resounding “NO!” to anything offered as a possible diversion.
• Any of the following: running away, pushing, hitting, biting, smearing toothpaste on the sink/counter/mother, throwing things with aim and intention, hiding with face buried in couch cushions, adopting rag doll pose, or mimicking octopus limbs while dressing is being attempted.
• One of the following outbursts, always included for the purposes of attention seeking or release of frustrated energy: loud banging, a trademarked “RAWR” (that I really must get on camera one day because it’s a perfect combination of dinosaur/pissed off toddler), or, more recently, a scrunched-up, spitting sort of face that I don’t understand but certainly don’t appreciate.

The Code Three Meltdown is where things get really interesting:

• Screaming. My god, this kid can scream.
• Did I mention screaming?
• Very physical responses – usually aimed at parental head and face regions – designed to provoke a specific response.
• Throwing himself on the floor and writhing around in a way that makes it almost impossible to pick him up (but not quite, ha ha).
• More screaming, which, as the defining characteristic of the Code Three Meltdown, tends to go on for quite some time.

As I’ve previously admitted, he gets a lot of this from me, so I get it (though it’s also – hopefully? – because the toddler switch has been flicked to “ON”).

This system is more observation than criticism, and besides, when tolerating a meltdown, analyzing the level and assigning a code to it gives me something to do other than stabbing myself in the eardrums so I don’t have to listen to it. That’s good parenting, right?

This previously published photo is an example of a Code One Meltdown (liked his outfit, didn't want his picture taken). Funnily enough, I don't have a photo of a Code Three. Must get on that.