You may have heard the saying, “Kids do well when they can."[1] This is the idea that when kids are struggling, it’s not because they are misbehaving or not cooperating on purpose. It’s either because they don’t have the skills, or access to the skills, necessary to manage in that moment. The former might be expecting a very active two-year-old to sit happily in a restaurant for 30 minutes. The latter might be a four-year-old who understands, from a cognitive perspective, that hitting is not okay. But when they are triggered by a big feeling, their downstairs takes over and so they hit. 

It's the expectation gap that causes so much stress in families because parents are constantly frustrated and kids feel misunderstood when their unintentional actions are treated as misbehavior. They also get the message that they are not good or capable enough. Having appropriate expectations can move you from anger and frustration to empathy and help you establish the most loving, effective ways to support your child, especially in difficult moments.

"Our little guy was having so much fun watching a mountain biking reel with his dad. He asked where the mountain was. When we told him it was in another country called Canada, he burst into tears. Through the sobbing he told us it was because he was never going to see that bike trail because he is never leaving Australia."

The mom who shared this story added: "I think the most exhausting part of having a HSC is not knowing what will throw them and turn our day into chaos."

Kids having this kind of negative thinking and pessimistic mindset is a common phenomenon for HSCs. Their deep thinking and analysis results in a lot of "what-ifs?" and worry that can take them to a dark place. I think that this is rooted in their intense need for control over their world. They feel overwhelmed on the inside because they don't have an "off" button; their brains are constantly working, trying to make sense of all they are processing. To cope, they try to control whatever they can on the outside. Thinking 20 steps ahead ensures they will be prepared for anything—to feel in control of all potential outcomes. Preparing for the worst protects them from the unexpected but can also lead to a bleak outlook, as evidenced by proclamations like: 

"I'm never going to be able to make it" (across the monkey bars.)

"We're never going to find it!" (The missing puzzle piece.)

"I'm never going to make friends at the new school. Nobody is going to like me."

Naturally, the parental impulse is to refute your child's proclamation—to talk them out of their negativity that feels so detrimental for them. We want them to have a "growth mindset" and feel optimistic and confident.
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The problem is that this kind of response rarely changes the child's perspective and can, in fact, exacerbate their negativity. They sense you are trying to talk them out of their feelings. In reaction, children often double down on their "position." Every one of your talking points is met with a more fierce rebuttal. 

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:

In a recent consult, the parents of a seven-year-old, who by nature is a very big reactor, shared that after a lot of hard work on managing their own emotions and being less reactive to him when he is having a difficult moment, he is now much better able to soothe himself. He will even voluntarily go into his room to take a break. They asked if it is okay to let him do this. They have heard so much about the importance of tuning into and acknowledging children's feelings. They worry that he won’t know that they are there for him—that they care about his emotions—and wonder if they should follow him and get him to talk.

Here is a child who has learned an amazing skill—to regulate himself in such a healthy and positive way. He is clearly letting his parents know that this is what he needs. There will be opportunities to talk about feelings, and to show that they see and feel him. But pursuing him in this moment would likely be experienced as intrusive, not respecting his boundaries. 

Yes, I am a mental health professional who has dedicated over three decades to supporting children's social and emotional well-being. And yes, I believe that tuning in to and validating feelings is critically important for children's mental health and for healthy parent-child relationships. But what I see happening now is that parents have been led to believe (largely via popular Instagram accounts) that leaning deep into feelings is ALWAYS what kids need; that not doing so sends the message that you don’t care about your child’s feelings and are abandoning them in their moment of distress. This notion has had a very detrimental effect on many of the families I work with. Rather than following their children’s lead (true loving and "gentle" parenting), they are being intrusive and often inadvertently escalating their children’s dysregulation, not supporting their emotional regulation.  

In practice, what kids need when it comes to exploring emotions is highly dependent on context and timing. It is not helpful when:

As I guide parents through the reflection and analysis of the challenging situations they are struggling with, a key factor  almost always at play is that parents are doing too much...talking, teaching, correcting, reasoning (or trying to)...when their kids are acting out or melting down, even when they know that less is more. It's just so freak'in hard to control ourselves in the heat of that moment when we are triggered by our kids' worrisome/scary/harmful behavior. 

I was inspired to hone in once again on this phenomenon because I also have a great story from the trenches that I wanted to share. It's a powerful, real life example of how less is almost always more with big reactors, and how you sometimes have to throw out a lot of the advice you have read that may work with other children but rarely works with these kiddos.⁠ I hope it will provide insight and also inspire you to continue to do the hard work of managing your own big reactions—the one thing you do have control over. 

Toby and Stephen reached out because their five-year-old, Lucas, is having a very tough time with the birth of his new baby brother. He alternates between spewing terrible venom that is very disturbing to them, especially at Toby, while also clinging to her like Velcro.

In our first consult, this is what Toby shared:

Lucas is saying horrible things, especially to me, and also about his new baby brother, that makes the old "I HATE YOU!" seem totally benign. He threatens to hurt us in all sorts of ways that can be shocking. I don't know where he gets this language or these ideas at his age. It's not language we ever use.

I am so upset and disturbed by this. I feel attacked by such hateful words. I tell him that he is being unkind and is hurting my feelings. I beg him to stop. This just leads to more escalation. And also more intense clinging.

We have also tried to correct him, telling him he can't talk like that. More escalation. He ramps up and comes on with even more intensity. Shouldn’t there be some consequence for talking this way? We don't know what to do. It feels so wrong.

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?⁠

One of the greatest gifts we give our children is self-awareness, a key component of emotional intelligence. Helping them understand what makes them tick—to tune into and understand how their thoughts and feelings affect their behavior—is critical for their ability to develop effective, healthy ways to express their full range of emotions as they grow. That is the definition of good mental health.

Self-awareness is especially important for highly sensitive children (HSC) because of how deeply they register their emotional and sensory experiences in the world. They get overwhelmed more easily because their systems are registering more than they can effectively process. This leads to big reactions that they need to learn to manage—no small feat—but that is so critical to their healthy development.

Some HSCs are very open and eager to talk about their feelings after the meltdown or difficult incident has ended and they are calm. They often share profound and poignant insights, like the six-year-old who explained: “I remember them (the calming tools) before, and I remember them after. I just don’t remember them in the middle.” Or, the five-year-old who said, “It’s like the spirit leaves my body” after he’s had an epic meltdown. Or, the four-year-old who was able to tell her mom that the reason she fights going to school every morning is because she is afraid mommy will disappear. (Her parents had recently gone through a separation.)

As hard as it may be to hear our children share painful feelings, it is such a powerful positive for them for them to have this insight and feel safe to share it with you. It makes working through these difficult experiences possible.

But many parents I work with express concern about their children being resistant to talking about feelings. They refuse to engage in reflective discussions to process and learn from difficult incidents. They cover their ears, tell parents to go away, immediately change the subject, or just shout that they don't want to talk about it.

I believe this reaction is rooted in the discomfort of revisiting an emotionally charged experience, especially when the child feels shame about it. The last thing they want is a face-to-face discussion that can feel very overwhelming, so they shut it down.

You can't, nor should you, try to force your kids to have these conversations. Pressuring them often results in their digging in their heels more fiercely and redoubling their defenses. Further, they develop a knee-jerk, negative reaction every time you try to initiate a reflective discussion, making it less likely they will feel safe to reflect and open up in the future.

Strategies that can reduce defensiveness and open kids up

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.) 

This exclamation was made by a highly sensitive child (HSC), when, after a wonderful day with hours of fun and joy, her dad said "no" to going back downstairs (once she was already in bed with lights out). She insisted she needed to check on a Magnatile structure she had been working on earlier that day.

I can't tell you how many times a week I hear stories like this from parents. Their HSC has a great day with lots of good stuff; and then one, often seemingly minor, event/disappointment happens and everything is ruined. 
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After decades of working with families of HSCs, and parenting my own, I understand that this is often part of the deal with these deeply feeling kids: they live life at the extremes. They are ecstatic or enraged. They tend to process their experiences in this all or nothing, black and white way. It's all good or all bad. They have a harder time living in the gray.
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The temptation, naturally, is to try to get them to see that there was so much good in their day, to talk them out of this all-encompassing, negative state, which seems so unfortunate and sad—for them to see the world this way. But that usually results in the HSC, in reaction to being told how to feel, doubling-down to prove to you that in fact, everything is indeed ruined. ⁠

⁠⁠Keep in mind that this doesn't mean the good stuff isn't getting through or having a positive impact on them. This awareness may also help you avoid the temptation to try to get them to acknowledge it or feel it in that moment. ⁠

"You have to put all my blocks back exactly the way I had them! You are not allowed to touch my blocks!" 

"Stop talking to mommy! I have a question and she needs to listen to me right now!"(Shouting at dad who is in a conversation with mom.) ⁠

While kids of all temperaments have been known to act like dictators at times, parents who have HSCs (highly sensitive children) report that their children make these kinds of seemingly outrageous demands on a regular basis. If the demand is not met, their kids can be very angsty and unpleasant. There may be a lot of whining or a full-blown tantrum. Many parents have said they feel like they are "negotiating with terrorists" during these encounters.

⁠These moments are so maddening because:⁠
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1) The tone the child takes is mortifying and "obnoxious" and totally unacceptable.⁠
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2) What triggers the child seems so minor and irrational, and makes parents feel like their they are raising spoiled brats that they need to "toughen up."⁠

This makes it very challenging for parents who are working so hard to be the empathetic, calm, connected moms and dads they want to be. ⁠

A common knee-jerk reaction is to admonish or correct: "You can't talk to us that way! It is disrespectful." This tends to amp kids up further. They are quick to shame in the face of being corrected—which they experience as criticism— propelling them into further dysregulation. When their brains are flooded with overwhelming feelings, they are unable to process or learn any lesson you are trying to teach them.⁠ (Here's more on how to teach lessons to kids who can't tolerate being corrected.) 

What Your Child Needs

This is Part 2 of my blog on being your child’s emotional support parent (ESP), not a “helicopter parent.” In that piece, I describe the complex dynamic that often evolves when you have a very committed, loving, sensitive parent with a child who is not wired to be as adaptable as other kids; who gets triggered easily by the unexpected, and by sensations that are registered at a higher decibel and cause discomfort; and, whose big feelings are hard to manage, especially at such an early age. These parents are acting out of necessity, really survival. They are doing their best and working to the point of physical and emotional exhaustion to provide comfort to their children who are hard to comfort, and to preserve some semblance of family peace and harmony—no small feat—when you’ve got a big reactor in your home. 

Part 2 provides guidance, based on my own parenting journey and my collaboration with hundreds of parents of highly sensitive children, on how to support versus enable your HSC; in other words, how to nurture that special closeness you have with your child while also setting the important limits that are essential for children’s individuation, growing sense of competence, and healthy, independent functioning.

This blog may be the nearest and dearest to me. It speaks to a parenting phenomenon that I have personally struggled with, and continue to work on 30+ years into my parenting journey.

It all crystallized for me when, a few months ago, a mom of a very sensitive, reactive child who gets triggered into discomfort easily, and is thus prone to frequent and intense meltdowns, described herself as her child’s “emotional support animal” and it took my breath away. This so perfectly captured my experience and that of so many of the parents (most often a mom) I work with who have an HSC (highly sensitive child).

This mom is her child’s primary and most desired (demanded) source of comfort. She is the person who is highly tuned in to her child, keenly focused on anticipating anything that might cause him stress, and tirelessly working to head it off. 

We are often called “Helicopter Parents” which has become the catch-all nomer (slur) for any parent who is perceived to be overprotecting their child. It is shaming and judgmental. It is damaging, and not helpful. And it does not capture or take into consideration the more complex and nuanced dynamic that evolves when you have a very committed, loving, sensitive parent with a child who is not wired to be as adaptable as other kids; who gets triggered easily by the unexpected, and by sensations that are registered at a higher decibel and cause discomfort; and, whose big feelings are hard to manage, especially at such an early age. These parents are acting out of necessity, really survival. They are doing their best and working to the point of physical and emotional exhaustion to provide comfort to their children who are hard to comfort, and to preserve some semblance of family peace and harmony—no small feat—when you’ve got a big reactor in your home. 

Just telling parents to stop hovering, to stop “overprotecting” and rescuing, to set limits and not give in to tantrums, is too simplistic and doesn’t acknowledge the very complex systems that evolve in families with big reactors just to cope day to day. 

This blog offers insights from my own parenting experience and my work with hundreds of kindred ESPs (“emotional support parents”) that I hope will be validating, and will also help you find that important, but often hard-to-find, sweet spot of supporting versus enabling your child. In other words, how to nurture that special closeness you have with your child while also setting the important limits that are essential for children’s individuation and healthy, independent functioning far into the future. 

Caleb, 5, is at the playground trying to enter a game of tag with some of the neighborhood kids. He is randomly tagging people, not following the rules. The kids are getting annoyed. They keep telling him to stop. Caleb ignores their pleas and gets sillier. He starts to make fun of their names, calling Isaac, "Pisak" and Max, "Sax." At this point, the kids tell him to go away. Caleb runs to his mom, Mira, who has been sitting on a bench observing. He is angry and crying because the kids are being mean to him and not letting him play. 

Mira: "What do you expect, Caleb? Why would they want to play with you when you're not playing by the rules and are making fun of their names? And you don't stop when they ask you to. They don't like it so they don't want to play with you." 

Caleb: "They're mean. You don't understand! You never listen to me! You are always on their side." He demands to go home, which they do.

Mira feels awful. It is so clear to her that the way Caleb is acting with his peers is resulting in rejection, which is having a very negative affect on him and is painful for Mira to witness. She feels so sad for Caleb. At the same time, she is frustrated and at a loss as to how to help him see how his behavior is causing the problem, and that the solution is in his hands; that if he played more appropriately, he would have more positive social interactions and feel better about himself. But the second she tries to talk to him about it, he gets defensive. He acts like he is the victim and projects all the blame onto the other kids. She is despairing about how to help him.

This is a very common story, and conundrum, that many families I work with face with their children. It is so distressing for them to see their kids behave in ways that they know will not bode well for them.

The deep love we have for our children, and the concomitant fear that comes with this territory, propels us into reactive-mode, which often takes the form of schooling them (as Mira did), hoping that this will convince them to change their ways: “Why would your friends want to play if you won't share?" "We just can't do playdates if you are going to boss your friends around. They don't like it." We think that if we can just get our important (brilliant! insightful!) points across, they will change their behavior and all will be right with the world.

While you mean to be helpful, these kinds of responses are experienced as criticism, and thus shaming, by children, and launches them into defensive, self-protection, closed-brain mode. This prevents any possibility for reflection and behavior change—the ultimate goal. 

What To Do

Jacob (6) loves swimming and joins a swim team that he is really enjoying. Then he has a series of illnesses that keep him out of this activity for over a month, after which he starts refusing to go to practices. When his parents ask why, he says he doesn't like swimming anymore—that it is "stupid”—which is perplexing and worrying to them. They know how fortifying this activity is for Jacob and that giving it up would be a real loss.

Accordingly, they respond: "But you love swimming, and are great at it! Why would you stop going?" They also start cheerleading—encouraging him and offering rewards if he agrees to return. Jacob only digs in his heels further. He refutes all of their talking points and doubles down on his position that he is quitting swimming.

This is a very common response from kids when parents try to convince them to keep at something they are anxious about. While you intend/hope it will be motivating, it can backfire, especially for highly sensitive kids who are very tuned into the underlying motives of their parents. They are already coping with difficult feelings about the situation. When they sense that you are disappointed or unhappy with their non-participation—when they won't jump into the pool to join the class with the other kids, or when they resist joining in the scrum at the birthday—it adds to their stress and makes it less likely they will feel confident to persevere through the challenge.

When we meet, Jacob's parents are feeling very distressed that their son is giving up something that was so important and healthy for him, and feel helpless to get him to change his mind. They are particularly concerned because this is a pattern for Jacob. He tends to give up easily and avoid things that are hard or that he isn't perfect at. His parents worry that he is missing out on important experiences that could potentially bring him a lot of pleasure. 

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

Every week I have multiple consults during which parents are in tears and experiencing utter despair over not being able to be the "gentle" parent they want to be. They feel like total failures. All are exhausted and depleted. Some are depressed.

⁠These parents all have "big reactors", aka, kids who go from 0-60 in a nanosecond if you: cut their sandwich the wrong way; take a different route home from school; pay ANY attention to the new baby; don't let them have another TV show; can't get their blankets on exactly the way they want after 20 minutes of trying, and so on. ⁠

These moms and dads, like all parents, want to be "gentle" parents: calm, loving, empathetic, validating and warmly connected to their kids. 

The problem is that, largely from the explosion of social media, they have gotten the message that being a "gentle" parent means: your child is never unhappy; you are always engaged in loving, joyful connection with your child;  you have the power to always calm your child when they are upset; you never feel frustrated, angry, overwhelmed, or want a break from your child, and act out on those feelings. ⁠
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This might be possible if you have a super adaptable, go-with-the-flow child (who makes their parents look soooo good!) These are the kids born with an "easy" temperament, who weather changes and transitions easily and who cope with limits and life's natural disappointments and frustrations without a lot of distress and dysregulation.
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But "sharing your calm" (aka "co-regulation") with a child whose epic meltdowns can be destructive, and venomous (a recent favorite is from a 4 yo who shouted at his father: "I'm taking you back to the daddy store!")⁠. and ⁠include "slaughterhouse screams" and physical aggression—hitting, spitting, kicking, scratching—is a whole different ballgame. ⁠

“Do all 4-year-olds blame their mothers for all of their mistakes or when anything goes wrong?? My daughter drops pizza on the floor, I’m responsible. I get a drip of water from her toothbrush on her shirt and I did it on purpose. She falls off her scooter, I made it happen, and according to her, I should never have bought the scooter (she had begged for!) to begin with! Don’t I know that she HATES scooters?!”

I hear stories like these all the time from parents (and not just of 4 yo’s), and recall this charming phenomenon from my own days in the childrearing trenches.

With 20-20 hindsight, and decades of working with kids since mine were little, I have gained some insight into the roots of these reactions and what children need from us in these moments in order to learn to accept their failures and manage their mistakes—the ultimate goal.

Why Our Kids Blame Us