The Whole-Brain Child

with your plan.” I tousled his hair, returned to the table, and
watched his once-again adorable face show evidence of doing
some hard thinking. His upstairs brain was definitely engaged.
In fact, it was at war with his downstairs brain. So far we had
avoided a blow-up, but it still felt like a dangerous fuse might
be burning within him.
Within ɹfteen seconds or so, my son returned and said to
Scott in an angry tone of voice, “Dad, I don’t want to eat half
of my quesadilla. And I want dessert.” Scott’s response
perfectly dovetailed with my own: “Well, what do you think
would be a fair amount?”
The answer came with slow, ɹrm resolve: “I’ve got one
word for you: Ten bites.”
What makes this unmathematical response even funnier is
that ten bites meant that he would eat well over half the
quesadilla. So Scott accepted the counteroʃer, my son happily
gobbled down ten bites and then his dessert, and the whole
family (as well as the restaurant’s other patrons) got to enjoy
lunch with no further incidents. My son’s downstairs brain
never fully took over, which, luckily for us, meant that his
upstairs brain had won the day.
Again, option #1 would have been perfectly ɹne, even
appropriate. But it also would have missed an opportunity.
My son would have missed a chance to see that relationships
are about connection, communication, and compromise. He
would have missed a chance to feel empowered that he can
make choices, aʃect his environment, and solve problems. In
short, he would have missed an opportunity to exercise and
develop his upstairs brain.
And I hasten to point out that even though I chose option
#2, Scott and I still had to address the misbehavior part of
the incident. Once our son was more in control of himself and