That Hairy, Scary Parenting Moment

Anyone that is parent will have a moment to tell, when they had a hairy-scary parenting moment. The type of moment that sends a chill up memory lane, a moment in time when you had to do something as a parent that really wasn't what you wanted to do but you had to do it. I have a had a few of these over the years, but it was the first one that still stays with me.
My darling oldest boy was then 5 and had just started kindergarten. He loved school and had loads of friends, it was getting him ready for school that was the problem. A problem that had me tearing out my hair every school morning. He just didn't want to get dressed!!!!
Each morning was a battle of biblical proportions, that usually saw me dressing him in his school clothes at the school gate, driving off to the parents to drop the younger ones off, then zooming to work. I was left with a mere 2 seconds to collect my sanity, shake of the inner turmoil before starting work.
Each evening, the clothes laid out, I would plead with him to get dressed in the morning before putting the TV on. Logical as it may sound, in reality it didn't work. Pulling the plug on the TV, packing away the TV, or threatening with hell far worse than being shipped off to his other grandparents didn't work either.
One morning, frantically late, I had to pick up the kicking, screaming, pyjama clad cutie under one arm, his baby sister held on the arm, whilst this toddler brother Drue, became a pack mule carrying the school bag, handbag, baby bag and car keys. At the school, the bell had already rung, I tore his pj's off and dressed him while mopping away stressful sweat from my brow, I warned him "Refuse to get stressed tomorrow and you will go to school in your pj's. I am just dropping you off and that's it!!". He turned into the school with quavering lips and a look that smacked off "You are the meanest mother in the world!". I drove off wanting to heave up what I didn't have for breakfast.
That night I reminded him, he screwed up his face and stormed off to his bedroom. Stomp, stomp, stomp and slam!
The next morning, still refusing to get dressed, a repeat of the day before, but this time I drove to the school and told him to go in the gate by himself. Well the temper tantrum started as he clung to me, I dragged my leg that held the green frog, printed pyjama clad boy glued solidly in place into the gate to a teacher. Prized him off and ran like the bejeesus to the car, legs wobbling, chest panting, head pounding and heart aching all the way. What have I done?
When my dad picked him up from school, he had stomped to the car with school hat, blue socks, black school shoes, green pyjamas, a face in a tight scrawl and arms folded even tighter. He wasn't happy.
That evening he gave me the icy cold shoulder and the silent treatment.
The next morning, he wasn't getting dressed until I reminded him I could do what I did the day before. He snatched his clothes of the chair storming off to his room. Stomp, stomp, stomp and slam!!.
He came out a little while later fully dressed and it was only 7.30am. Ryan and his little brother Drue, escaped outside for some playtime on the bikes, which hadn't happened before, because we spent hours arguing over a 5 minute job of getting dressed. At the school gate later, we all walked him in, gave him a big kiss and a hug. I went to work for the first time without knots in my stomach.
The next morning, he was up, dressed and playing outside with his brother before I even finished my shower. Never again did Ryan need to be pushed into getting dressed.

The secret really wasn't the just act of following through on a threat, but the consequences themselves. Previously I had warned him with disciplinary actions such as no swimming or treats after school, which he accepted. Threats like that are really choices given to a child, he really didn't care if he didn't swim or get a treat that afternoon, but going to school in his pj's wasn't a choice but a direct result of his own actions. The humiliation and the taunting by his peers was suffered by him and him alone, due to his own fault, (I never admitted to him the excruciating emotional pain I suffered the entire day).