Currently Jack is in his room crying. Why? Because he peeled an orange and got sticky hands, then came to me and said an "ant" was biting him. I logically suggest how about we go wash the "ant" off? Which was then followed by a five minute progressive melt down. You know the kind that starts as a few mumbled words behind a small tear that slowly builds into a flood of tears, ear piercing cries, and loss of postural control; all because a parent used some logic? These are very difficult years.
