Arthur and Hadley are distressed about the constant power struggles with their son, Ryder (7). They send me audio of a difficult encounter so I can hear exactly how these scenarios unfold and help them figure out what they can do differently. In this case, Ryder is insisting that he needs to go back downstairs after he is already in his room getting ready to read with Arthur before lights out. Ryder proclaims that he doesn’t want to read books. He wants to use his time to paint.

Arthur: "Ryder, we are not doing art now. We are getting ready for bed. There is no going back downstairs."

Ryder screams: "That's stupid. All you want me to do is read and read and read and read because you think it's educational. Well art is educational too. Haven't you ever heard of art class?"

Arthur: "It’s bedtime, which is reading time."

Ryder: "That doesn't make any sense! You never let me do anything I want to do. This is the worst day ever!"

Arthur: "That is not true, Ryder. You get to do so many things you want to do..." as Arthur proceeds to remind Ryder of many recent examples.

Arthur's repeated efforts to explain (defend) himself—to convince Ryder to see that his accusations are unfounded and that the limit is fair—is just fodder for Ryder to keep upping the ante. His retorts get more fierce and increasingly irrational: "You care more about Lilah (his younger sister) than me! She gets to do art whenever she wants! You are so mean to me. I don't even think you love me!" This goes on for over 20 minutes, with Arthur playing defense, countering every accusation and negotiation point. He is completely worn down and ends up letting Ryder do art for an extra 30 minutes before lights-out. After we process this experience, Arthur makes the following course corrections:

Here are the key mindshifts that are also guiding principles for my work with families, that are key to helping parents be the calm, loving, connected moms and dads they want to be while also setting the limits and boundaries kids need to thrive.

A common conundrum for many parents who seek my consultation is how to impart important lessons to their kids who won’t listen. Their kids reject, argue, shut the conversation down or put the blame on their parent.

You will see from the stories below that what I have found...wait for it..is that less is more in these moments. The more you try to get your child to absorb the information you want to impart, the less likely they are to tune in to and internalize it, as these stories below show. 

Almost always, the challenge parents are seeking to solve when they come to see me—melt downs, inflexibility/defiance, power struggles—is rooted in the absence of an important limit. That is what is causing so much stress for the entire family.⁠

When the limit isn't clear, and there is a lot of discussion or negotiation, about....more books at bedtime, more things the child says they need to do before they are willing to go to sleep, more treats, more screen time...it opens up a big, black hole that the child fills with endless attempts to keep parents engaged or to get them to do what they want. This is not just exhausting and maddening for parents, it is exhausting for kids who expend a lot of mental energy making their case and pursuing all angles, getting themselves increasingly wound up and dysregulated. The entire situation escalates and everyone involved ends up miserable.  
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As you know, this is not a new theme or insight. I write often about limits because of how pervasive a problem figuring how to effectively and lovingly set them continues to be for so many families I see.

One big culprit is that because kids don't like limits, their reaction--meltdowns, protests and the like--is often  triggering for parents which makes it hard to stick to them.

Another obstacle to parents being the loving limit-setters their children need them to be is due to a more recent phenomenon: parents have gotten the message that "gentle," loving, respectful parenting entails collaboration with kids—making them part of the decision-making process—not telling them what to do, which has become characterized as being harsh and dictatorial. This has translated into parents trying to get kids to agree to limits.

For most of the moms and dads I work with—who have kids who are extremely clever, fierce, feisty, persistent, and have a very strong need to control everything—this philosophy and approach backfires. Once the child susses out that the limit the parent is trying to set is dependent on their agreement and cooperation, they expend an incredible amount of energy throwing up any and all obstacles possible to prevent said limit from being implemented. Who can blame them? I haven't met a child yet who was happy about handing over a tablet, accepting an apple as dessert instead of cookies, or having to end a joyful bedtime. They will negotiate and argue, making some very cohesive and also some very irrational arguments, and use a whole host of delay tactics. This intense focus on exploiting any loophole they detect often sends them into a total tizzy, working themselves up and getting increasingly dysregulated. This is exhausting and not healthy for them. 

Naturally, this is also extremely exhausting for parents who find themselves getting drawn into constant negotiation and defending/justifying why they are setting these important, necessary limits to their children. They are also very frustrated and annoyed with their kids which saddens them and is not what leads to the loving connection parents and kids need.

Here are some common examples:

My four-year-old was very hesitant when I signed her up for gymnastics class. After a few sessions, she started to join in and now she LOVES it. I can’t get her out of there when class is over. But every week, when it’s time to go back, she fights tooth and nail, insisting she doesn’t want to go. It’s like Groundhog’s Day. I just don’t get it.

This phenomenon is one that many parents I work with find confounding and frustrating, understandably. Where is the learning curve? ⁠
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As I help parents do the detective work to figure out the root cause of why their kids react this way, in most cases the challenge is making the transition, not their feelings about the activity. Once the child is engaged in the experience, they love it—whether it is school, dance class, jujitsu, art, or going to the playground. As one mom reported just earlier today: “This weekend we told Bodie (5) that we were going to the playground to meet some friends. He melted down, screaming that he wasn’t going; that he hates the playground, and he hates the children we were meeting there. We held firm and got him there, which was really, really hard and uncomfortable. But within minutes he was having the best time playing with the child he had claimed to detest just minutes earlier."

Why are transitions so hard?⁠

Every week I receive video and audio recordings from parents of challenging moments with their children that they want help understanding and effectively addressing. They almost always involve power struggles—the most pervasive problem for which parents seek my help.

In a recent recording, a seven-year-old, whom we'll call Ryder, was arguing with his dad, Arthur, at bedtime about why he couldn't go downstairs and do art instead of having book time:

Dad: "There is no going downstairs when it's bedtime."

Ryder: "That's stupid. All you want me to do is read and read and read and read because you think it's educational. Well art is educational too. Haven't you ever heard of art class?"

Dad: "It is bedtime, which is reading time."

Ryder: "That doesn't make any sense! You never let me do anything I want to do. This is the worst day ever!"

Dad: "That is not true, Ryder. You get to do so many things you want to do..." as Arthur proceeds to remind Ryder of many recent examples.

Arthur's repeated efforts to explain (defend) himself—to convince Ryder to see that his accusations are unfounded, and that the limit is fair, is just fodder for Ryder to keep upping the ante. His retorts get more fierce and increasingly irrational: "You care more about Lilah (his younger sister) than me! She gets to do art whenever she wants!" "You are so mean to me. I don't even think you love me!" 

This goes on for over 20 minutes, with Arthur playing defense, countering every accusation and negotiation point. He is completely worn down and ends up letting Ryder do art in his room for an extra 30 minutes before lights-out.

I share this encounter because it reflects the stories I hear from families on a daily basis. A four-year-old launches into a long explanation of why she needs more time to make food for her stuffed animals, right when it's time to go to school. Her mom says she can have five more minutes. But when the timer goes off, her daughter comes up with another task she needs to do, the struggle continues. They are ultimately late for school and separate with everyone exasperated.

A five-year-old draws her parents into a 10-minute discussion about why she should be able to watch another episode of her show, talking circles around them until their heads are about to explode. 

As we analyze these interactions, it becomes evident that the foundational problem is that their kids have found a LOOPHOLE: the absence of a clear limit that creates a void—an opening and opportunity—for kids to try to thwart their parents from setting the limits they don't like. Once the child effectively engages their parents in a debate or negotiation, the child sees that there is a chance that they can get their parents to cave in on or amend the limit to their liking. The longer the child can keep their parents engaged in these debates/battles (and parents will stay a long time, hoping that if they can just get their child to agree to respect the limit, they can head off the dreaded tantrum), the more revved up and irrational their children tend to get. It is utterly exhausting for everyone involved.

“Demand avoidance”—a knee-jerk, defiant reaction to any direction to cooperate with a task or to make a transition— is a phenomenon that I see frequently in my work with families of highly sensitive children(HSC)/big reactors.

This pattern of behavior has been officially termed "Pathological Demand Avoidance" (PDA), but many experts, myself included, prefer "Pervasive Demand Avoidance." 

The first and most important thing to know about PDA is that it is a reaction that is based in the nervous system and is not purposeful "opposition" or "defiance."  The nervous system interprets the demand as a threat to the child's autonomy and triggers a stress response that prepares the body to fight or flee.

While PDA is associated with ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), I work with hundreds families each year and see many kids who are not on the Autism spectrum but are prone to demand avoidance. Most of these children are HSCs who often feel overwhelmed on the inside because of how deeply they process their experiences in the world. To cope—to make life more manageable—they seek to control as much as they can on the outside. This frequently translates into refusal to follow a direction, given the fact that directions are designed to control a child's behavior—to get them to do something you want them to do. These kids are totally clued into this and resisting the demand is a way to feel in control. 

So what's a parent to do when many of these tasks HAVE TO BE DONE to keep their children healthy and safe, and to run an effective household, especially a busy one with multiple kids? Teeth need to be brushed; kids need to be at school, doctor appointments, and activities on time; baths/showers have to be taken; kids need to stay safely in their rooms at night to get the sleep they need (if you are choosing to have your children sleep independently.) 

All parents want to teach their kids to learn to take responsibility for their actions. ⁠
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For parents of kids who are big reactors, this can feel like an impossible goal because their kids react so negatively, and sometimes explosively, to being corrected. They get angry and defensive, cover their ears, run away, or completely shut down when faced with an adult who is trying to inculcate them in some way.

So many parents have shared stories in recent consults about this vexing phenomenon, which tells me that there are probably many of you out there who are struggling with this, too. So, this blog provides insight and guidance on how to teach kids important lessons when they can't tolerate being corrected.

Why kids have a hard time being corrected

⁠Highly sensitive children (HSC) tend to be quick to shame. Seemingly benign corrections or suggestions—how to hold scissors correctly, how to aim the ball to get it in the basket, how to solve a problem with a peer—are experienced as criticisms or personal indictments, not as helpful guidance you are intending to offer. 

They also interpret and process your input as a threat to their sense of self and autonomy; that you are trying to control them and change their behavior, which results in a defensive reaction. They engage in all sorts of evasion (often blaming you or other external forces, for their actions) as a way to ward off feelings they are having a hard time understanding and managing.  

When they experience your anger, annoyance, or disappointment at their behavior, it only increases their stress, which results in deeper dysregulation.

Further, you may find that when you want to reflect on these difficult incidents once they are over, to help your child process the experience and learn from it, your child refuses to revisit the uncomfortable feelings and events. This leaves many parents despairing about how they will ever be able to teach their children important lessons about the impact of their actions on others. ⁠

What you can do

Teaching lessons may look very different with a big reactor.It turns out that, often, the most effective way to do this is counterintuitive for most parents; the opposite of what your logical, adult mind dictates, as illustrated by the examples below.

Seven-year-old sore at losing
Max, 7, is playing in a basketball game. His dad, Peter, is in the stands and sees that Max is getting increasingly frustrated that no one is passing the ball to him. Just as Peter fears—because Max has a history of sore-losing and blaming it on unfair tactics—Max ultimately storms off the court to where Peter is sitting. Max pretends that the reason he left the game is because there is something in his eye; he doesn't want anyone to think he is crying. Then he blurts out to Peter that it's not fair—no one is passing the ball to him so he can't make any baskets.

With the best of intentions, Peter launches right into encouragement/cheerleading/problem-solving: "That happens in games. You can't always get the ball or a basket. What do you think your teammates and coach will think about you walking off? You have to get back out there, Buddy."

Max's response: "Stop talking to me right now!! You are so annoying!" as he starts to push angrily into Peter. Peter admonishes Max for getting aggressive. This ultimately leads to Max running out of the gym and Peter feeling totally distraught about how this behavior will affect the way Max’s peers will see him and how in the world he is ever going to be able to teach Max how to be more resilient. 

After we process this incident in a consult, Peter is able to see why his response may have backfired; that his intended encouragement was not experienced as motivating, but as added stress. Max is very sensitive and tuned in to the fact that Peter was disappointed in his reaction; that he wanted Max to be able to buck up and bounce back, which Max was not ready/able to do. This left Max feeling pressured, and alone and misunderstood, making it less likely he would feel confident to get back out there and learn to cope with the challenges of a competitive sport.

With this insight, the next time a similar incident happens, here is how Peter responds: 

He starts with empathy: "I hear you Bud, playing team sports can be challenging and frustrating."

He lets Max know he is not alone in his feelings/experience: "It took me a long time to get comfortable with not always getting the ball, or a basket, or a goal. I ended up deciding that I would try to manage the frustration and disappointment that can happen in team sports because I didn't want to give up playing those games with my friends." 

He avoids telling Max what to do (which always leads to a defensive reaction) and, instead, positions himself as a person who will help Max think these trickly situations through: "Looks like your options are to take some deep breaths and go back into the game, or take a break and then figure out how you want to proceed. What do you think is a better choice for you right now?" 

Now that Peter is no longer trying to change Max's behavior, and is giving him the space and opportunity to figure things out for himself, Max is calming more quickly and is sometimes open to engaging in a reflective process to think through these difficult situations. This is what gives Max the best chance of building the resilience Peter knows would be so good for him. It has also solidified a strong bond between Peter and Max, who now feels seen, understood, and respected by his dad. 

Six-year-old whose body often acts before his brain

Roman is a very intense, amazing child who is super empathic, creative, and curious. He can also become explosive when things don't go the way he wants or expects: his sister goes first...for anything; he hits a snag in a project he is working on; his mom, Serena, says “no” to a new Lego set.

For a long time, when Roman would lose it and start hurling toys, which sometimes hit her, Serena, typically and naturally, had a big reaction—shouting at Roman for hurting her and admonishing that he cannot throw objects. It's dangerous. This always led to Roman getting more dysregulated and defensive, with more aggressive behavior and vitriol hurled. The whole situation spiraled further out of control with no lessons learned.

Serena has been working for years on managing her own emotions in the face of these explosions, and trying to figure out the best way to help Roman learn to manage his impulses and take responsibility for his actions. In our most recent consult she shared this major victory and lesson learned...for her:

Roman was frustrated and tossed a toy that grazed Serena on the cheek. She stayed calm and without a word, went to the sink and started to take care of the scrape. Roman immediately approached her with great remorse, hugged her legs, said he was sorry, and asked if she was okay.

⁠No doubt, showing this kind of self-control in the heat-of-the-moment, especially when she had just been the victim of her son’s aggression, was nothing short of super-human. But you can see the payoff. By not going into correction mode, or fueling the flames, Serena created a very powerful opportunity for Roman to take responsibility for his actions. ⁠⁠

I see this dynamic all the time at homes and in preschools. The bigger the reaction from the adult, and the more they try to correct the child and teach them a lesson, the more agitated and aggressive the child becomes. Less is more in these situations.

 4 yo with low frustration tolerance
I was observing 4 yo, Evie, at preschool because her teacher had expressed concern about her giving up very quickly when facing a challenge and how this would effect her moving onto Kindergarten next year. Indeed, after not too long, I saw Evie getting increasingly frustrated that she couldn't cut a piece of paper in the shape she wanted. She kept grunting and repeating, "I can't do it! This is too hard!”

Because I still have a hard time resisting my impulse to rescue kids when they are struggling, without thinking (first major mistake), I sat down next to Evie and started to show her how to more effectively hold the scissors and paper. Her response: she shouted at me to "STOP!" as she crumpled up the paper, threw it on the floor, and walked away.

Of course, in her agitated state, she had experienced my attempt to be helpful and teach her fine motor skills as intrusive and overwhelming—hence her defensive reaction. I knew I wouldn't get another chance anytime soon to have a redo with Evie. But I shared the insight I had gained from the incident with the teacher. My suggestion was that that  when Evie is struggling, not to step in with solutions but to acknowledge her frustration (“I know, learning to cut with scissors can be frustrating and take time and practice to figure out”) and then to say, "I have some ideas about how you might solve this problem. Would you like to hear them?" 

The following month the teacher reported back that this approach was working: Evie was calming more quickly. And, when asked for permission to provide ideas, she was more open to the teacher's suggestions and was⁠ not reacting so quickly with panic when she faced a challenge. All told, Evie’s growing ability to manage her frustration and think through how to solve problems has resulted in her building much stronger executive functioning skills.

Take-home:
It’s all about stopping trying to control your child is one of the hardest pills to swallow for many parents. You clearly see the potential negative outcomes for them when they "act-out"; when they give up easily upon facing a challenge or act in hurtful ways. You do know what would be best and healthiest for your child because you’re a smart, sensitive parent, and you love them so much you want to do everything in your power to make that happen. You want to change the outcome for them and ensure they will do the "right" thing.

But at the end of the day, your kids are the ones out there on the playground, the basketball court, in the classroom. They need to figure out how to handle these situations. And it turns out that the most powerful way to help children, especially big reactors, learn to make good choices is not by telling them what to do.

Related articles

Why Children Laugh, Evade, or Get Angry When Being Corrected (No, your child is not a sociopath)

When your child gives up easily: How to help them become good problem-solvers