Resolving Conflicts Like 4-year-old Girls

My four-year-old, Belle, has a good friend, Holly. Belle and Holly spend a lot of time together. They are in the same preschool class and have two standing play dates a week. It makes sense that they’d occasionally get a little tired of each other. And they do.

When this happens, they scuffle. They scuffle in the way that girls scuffle, with words and ultimatums and crossed arms. And usually, their disagreements happen at my house, on Belle’s turf.

I often listen in on the altercations and wonder what would happen if my girlfriends and I related to each other in the same way that Belle relates to hers when she’s frustrated.

A phone call might go something like this:

“Hi, um, Heather? Yeah, I hated that you didn’t acknowledge me at school drop off today. So, I just want you to know I’m not going to be your friend anymore. Ever.”

“That’s okay,” Heather might say. “Because I’m not going to be your friend anymore either. In fact, you’re less my friend than I am your friend.”

And, we’d dissolve into screaming tears.

A run-in with another mom on the playground could easily veer in this direction:

“Hey, Angie. I like your sweater. Can I have it?”

“No,” I would say. “It’s mine.”

“But I need it. Can I just have it for a little while? I’ll just borrow it.”

“No. It’s mine.” My lip would start trembling.

“But I. Want! It!”

“It’s mine!” I yell.

And, we’d dissolve into screaming tears.

Coffee with a co-worker could deteriorate quickly:

“This Americano is bitter. I wish I’d gotten a latte like you did.”

“Well, you didn’t. So sorry.”

“I want a latte.” I would whine. “It’s no fair.” I’d grab her coffee and slam half of it before she could take it back.

And, we’d dissolve into screaming tears.

Thankfully, time and years have tempered raw emotion, have given us social skills from which to draw when we’re less than pleased with our friends. But wouldn’t it be amusing and cleansing, just for a day, to let it all hang out? To revert back to how we interacted when we were four?

Maybe, for a 24-hour stretch, I’ll confront my girlfriends when they aren’t paying enough attention to me, or have dressed better than I have. I’ll swipe coffees and burst into tears when I don’t get what I want.

I might even turn it around on Belle and Holly next time they squabble. Perhaps, in the face of my meltdown, they’ll compose themselves, start tidying up, cooking dinner and interacting like little grown ups.