Pick one pick, not three. Run it twice this week at the same time of day if you can manage it. The second repetition is the one that starts to feel like his, not yours.
A child's nervous system learns its ceiling from the adults who hold it. Rough play teaches the ceiling for excitement. A bedtime slot teaches the ceiling for waiting. A market meltdown teaches the ceiling for wanting. None of it needs a curriculum or a free Saturday. It needs one repetition, done the same way, by the same person, often enough that the child stops testing whether it will happen and starts trusting that it will. Pick one thing from this week's list. Do it more than once.
The game: The Catch and Drop. Hold him under the arms and lift him a foot off the ground, then set him down. Do it again the second he says or signals more. Stop the instant he says stop, no exceptions, and name it out loud when you do: 'You said stop, so I stopped.' A toddler who controls the brake on a big-feeling game learns that big feelings have brakes.
The book: Where the Wild Things Are (Maurice Sendak). A boy gets sent to his room angry, sails to where the wild things are, runs the whole show, and comes home to dinner still hot. It is the only picture book that takes a toddler's rage seriously without moralizing it. 中文: Traditional Chinese edition 《野獸國》available from Hong Kong booksellers (Grimm Press / 格林文化).
The game: Footbridge Statues. On any footbridge or MTR platform wait, call out 'freeze' at random and both hold whatever position you're in until you call 'go.' No props, no setup, works in a queue. Practicing stop-on-command in a low-stakes game builds the same muscle he needs when you say stop for real.
The book: Ish (Peter H. Reynolds). A boy quits drawing when his brother laughs at a picture, until his sister reframes 'bad' as 'ish' and he starts making things again. Useful for the age where first attempts get abandoned fast. 中文: Traditional Chinese edition 《像不像,沒關係》available in Hong Kong (小天下).
The game: The Ten-Minute Interview. One night this week, sit with him for ten minutes and ask three questions you don't already know the answer to: what was the best part of today, what was hard, what does he want to build this weekend. No phone, no multitasking, just the questions and his answers. Named, undivided attention at this age teaches him his inner life is worth reporting, not just his behavior.
The book: Frindle (Andrew Clements). A fifth grader invents a new word for pen and watches it spread past his teacher's control. Good for a kid old enough to enjoy a protagonist who wins by being stubborn in a good direction.
The situation: The wet market meltdown. He wants the toy at the stall, you said no once already, and now he's escalating in front of a market full of people who have all seen this exact scene before.
I know you really want it. We're not getting it today. I'm right here.
One line for the feeling and one for the limit is enough information; repeating it calmly is what tells him you're not going to be talked out of the limit, which is what lets him stop testing it.
Pick one pick, not three. Run it twice this week at the same time of day if you can manage it. The second repetition is the one that starts to feel like his, not yours.