I was complaining to a friend that I could not make David wear his coat. Every day we were having screaming crying battles as we left the house.

John and I were adamant that he had to wear a coat. It's cold out there. It was a safety concern and a mood issue. He refused to wear his coat; he got crabby because he was cold; he was hard to deal with because he was crabby. Ugh. John and I had picked this as our Waterloo because, in fact, even when we could force David to bring his coat, unless we pinned him to the ground and forced his arms into the sleeves, as I used to when he was little, he wasn't going to wear it.

My friend said, don't bother. Um. I was looking for compliance strategies not retreat. My friend pointed out that it really doesn't get that cold in Seattle, not frostbite hypothermia cold. So he got a little cold and wet? So what? And about the grumpiness, was I sure?

I couldn't quite give up. There was some face to save after all, and some politics. His teacher might give me grief if he never brought a coat. So, I told him, he had to bring his coat. He did not have to wear it. . .unless he started whining/complaining/giving me grief, and then the coat was going on.

David brings his coat. He doesn't wear it. He doesn't get crabby. We don't fight. Can I repeat that? We went from fighting every time we left the house to not. I mean, duh, we fight about other things, but at the threshold peace reigneth.

I walked away from the battle and won.