The Happiness Project: Or, Why I Spent a Year Trying to Sing in the Morning, Clean My Closets, Fight Right, Read Aristotle, and Generally Have More Fun

he’d get the boys dressed and out the door. He’d stop for coffee, then the three of them would head for the park, and he’d watch them play for an hour before they returned home for breakfast.
    These days his boys sleep late on the weekends, and now, my friend told me, those mornings are some of his clearest and happiest memories of that period. The morning light, the quiet park, his little boys racing across the grass.
    The days are long, but the years are short.
    ACKNOWLEDGE THE REALITY OF PEOPLE’S FEELINGS.
    As part of my research for the month, I reread, for the fourth time, the collected works of the world’s greatest parenting experts, Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish, and in particular their two masterpieces, Siblings Without Rivalry and How to Talk So Kids Will Listen and Listen So Kids Will Talk. I discovered these books when a friend of mine mentioned that two friends of hers had the best-behaved children she’d ever seen. So when I met that couple, I asked for their secret—and they swore by How to Talk So Kids Will Listen . I ordered it that night, and I became an instant follower of Faber and Mazlish.
    What’s different about their books is that they’re packed with practical advice and examples. So many parenting books belabor the arguments about the importance of the goals—as if anyone is disputing that children should be well behaved, respectful, able to tolerate frustration, self-directed, and so on. Fine, but what do you do when your child throws a tantrum in the cereal aisle?
    The most important lesson from Faber and Mazlish’s books is simple and as applicable to adults as to children: we should acknowledge the reality of people’s feelings. In other words, don’t deny feelings such as anger, irritation, fear, or reluctance; instead, articulate the feeling and the other person’s point of view. Sounds simple, right? Wrong. I had no idea how often I contradicted my children’s assertions of their feelings until I tried to quit. Too often, I said things like “You’re not afraid of clowns,” “You can’t possibly want more Legos, you never play with the ones you have,” “You’re not hungry, you just ate.”
    Crazily enough, I discovered, just repeating what my child was saying, to show that I appreciated her point of view, was often enough to bring peace. Instead of saying to Eleanor, “Don’t whine, you love to take a bath!” I said, “You’re having fun playing. You don’t want to take a bath now, even though it’s time.” This strategy was astoundingly effective—which suggested to me that much of children’s frustration comes not from being forced to do this or that but rather from the sheer fact that they’re being ignored.
    So what strategies could I use to help show my children that I was acknowledging their feelings?
    Write it down.
    For some reason, the simple act of writing something down makes a big impression on my children, even the preliterate Eleanor. To restore peace, it can be enough to whip out pen and paper and announce, “I’m going to write that down. ‘Eleanor does not like to wear snow boots!’”
    Don’t feel as if I have to say anything.
    Eliza can be a bit of a sulker. Sometimes I pull her onto my lap and cuddle her for five minutes, and when we get up, she’s cheerful again.
    Don’t say “no” or “stop.”
    Instead, I try to give information that shows that although I understand their desire, I have a reason for not granting it: “You’d like to stay, but we have to go home because Daddy forgot his keys.” Studies show that 85 percent of adult messages to children are negative—“no,” “stop,” “don’t”—so it’s worth trying to keep that to a minimum. Instead of saying, “No, not until after lunch,” I try to say, “Yes, as soon as we’ve finished lunch.”
    Wave my magic wand.
    “If I had a magic wand, I’d make it warm outside so we didn’t have to wear coats.” “If I were Ozma, I’d make a box of Cheerios appear right now.” This shows that I understand what my kids want and would accommodate them if I could.
    Admit that a task is difficult.
    Studies show that people tend to persevere longer with problems they’ve been told are difficult as opposed to easy. I’d been doing the opposite with Eleanor. Thinking I was being encouraging, I’d say, “It’s not tough to pull off your socks, just give it a try.” I switched to saying things such as “Socks can be tough to get off. Sometimes it