As we sat in the waiting room, I glanced over at Leah. Her face was a mixture of exhaustion and worry. Dylan sat between us, playing quietly with a toy car, his earlier tantrum a distant memory. The receptionist called our name, and we stood, guiding Dylan into the doctor's office.
Dr. Harris greeted us warmly, gesturing for us to take a seat. "Good to see you both again," she said, her tone gentle. "And hello, Dylan."
Dylan looked up briefly, offering a shy smile before returning his attention to his toy. Dr. Harris turned her attention to us. "I understand things have been difficult lately."
Leah nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, his tantrums have been getting worse. We don't know what to do."
Dr. Harris leaned forward, her expression sympathetic. "Let's talk about that. Can you describe what happens during these tantrums?"
I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. "He can go from being the happiest boy in the world to having a full-blown meltdown in seconds. There's no warning. One minute he's playing, and the next he's screaming, hitting, throwing things."
Dr. Harris nodded, taking notes. "I see. Have you noticed any patterns? Anything that might trigger these outbursts?"
Leah and I exchanged a glance. "We're not sure," I admitted. "It feels like it could be anything. Sometimes it's when we ask him to do something, like go to bed or eat his dinner. Other times, it seems to come out of nowhere."
Dr. Harris leaned back in her chair, thoughtful. "It's not uncommon for children with ADHD to have difficulty regulating their emotions. However, understanding potential triggers can help us develop strategies to manage his behavior. I suggest keeping a journal for the next few weeks. Note the circumstances surrounding each tantrum—what happened just before, what he was doing, how he responded. This might help us identify patterns."
Leah nodded, taking in the suggestion. "Okay, we can do that."
Dr. Harris smiled encouragingly. "Good. It's also important to remember that consistency is key. Clear boundaries and routines can provide a sense of security for Dylan. And don't hesitate to reach out for support, whether it's through parent training programs, therapy, or support groups."
I squeezed Leah's hand, feeling a glimmer of hope. "Thank you, Dr. Harris. We'll start keeping the journal and see if we can find any patterns."
As we left the office, Dylan skipped ahead, seemingly oblivious to the weight of the conversation we had just had. Leah sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I hope this helps," she said softly.
I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "It will. We're doing everything we can for him."
Over the next few weeks, Leah and I diligently kept a journal, documenting each tantrum and trying to identify potential triggers. It was exhausting, but we were determined to help Dylan. We noticed that transitions seemed to be a common theme—moving from one activity to another often sparked an outburst. Changes in routine, even minor ones, also seemed to set him off.
One evening, after another particularly challenging day, Leah and I sat down together to review our notes.
"Look at this," Leah said, pointing to a page. "Every time we ask him to stop playing and get ready for bed, he loses it."
I nodded, feeling a sense of clarity. "And here, when we had to leave the park. It's like he can't handle the change."
Leah sighed, leaning back in her chair. "What do we do? We can't avoid transitions altogether."
"No, but maybe we can prepare him better," I suggested. "Give him more warning, use visual schedules, and maybe even some rewards for making the transition smoothly."
