The quiet child: how can we help them thrive in an extroverted world?
When my daughter was two, I had to schedule at least two hours when we'd go to the grocery store because, being the new talker that she was then, she insisted that we stop and talk to every single person we passed in every single aisle. I'd go in for one tomato and leave with 25 new friends.
She didn't stay that way, though. Over time, some kids, like mine, change to become a more of a quiet child than they were before, while others become more of the extrovert they always were.
Many adults assume, however, that all kids crave BIG attention—the brighter, bolder, and louder, the better. However, some children need space to build trust before they'll delve into conversation or even basic play. And for some of us, giving a quiet child space is a hard concept to grasp—particularly those of us who really want to
connect and who might not be "wired to wait" the same way the child is.
In fact, half the people in the world are introverts. That can leave the other half wondering what to do to
connect with them. So, what can you do when the quiet child you're trying to engage shies away from your attempts? Hint: don't try harder.
I'll admit that for several reasons, I felt odd giving friends who hadn't met my quiet child, who's now solidly introverted, this advice. However, it's proven to be the most helpful tip I've found so far. Bear with me:
Pretend the quiet child is a cat. I mean that in the most respectful of ways. Bear with me.
If you'll forgive the analogy and the generalization, the way to engage puppies—unlike cats—is typically to run, throw balls, pick them up, and roughhouse.
Conversely, a cat typically responds better if you simply find a peaceful place to sit where she can check you out from afar, perhaps come and sniff an outstretched hand, and decide whether to snuggle up or play with a toy you're dangling. If you move too quickly, though, she's likely out of there. She doesn't want you to pursue her.
A quiet child may want to observe her trusted adult's interactions with you before engaging with you directly. If Mom or Dad seems relaxed and happy with you and is following the steps in Supporting the Introverted Child, she can follow her adult's cues and let her guard down when she's ready.
That said, even if you're truly hilarious and other kids burst out in giggles when you surprise them with a "Boo!" they weren't expecting, quiet children often need an entirely different approach.
Here's what to try, instead:
In every single case where my friends trusted the "cat suggestion" I gave them privately before meeting my quiet child, it worked. By the time we parted ways, my girl had signaled her comfort by reaching out and holding my friends' hands as we walked together. By the look on my friends' faces, suffice it to say she'd melted their hearts with her subtle connection.
Channel Depeche Mode (am I dating myself?) and enjoy the silence. Keep the loud games, TV, music, and
general distractions off. Some (but not all) introverted children are easily overwhelmed in new situations and have trouble connecting to new people when there's too much chaos to "compete" with their trust-building mechanisms.
If you can find a quiet activity the child enjoys, all the better. Read a children's book alone if you need to. The child can choose whether to engage with you, but it's a good way to establish common ground. Let the child come to you.
Respect the pace, the space, and the child as a whole. Aunt Pat might've expected a hug from you when you were little, even when you hadn't seen her for 1000 years. If you really want a relationship with this child, though, it's less important to recall what was "polite" or expected when you were little, and more important to connect to the child in a way he feels emotionally safe. Consent matters.
This can be tough since it may require you to reevaluate your thinking, but it's important. Let go of who you think he "ought" to be. And by all means, if this child's sensitivity or introversion is cute or otherw
ise funny, don't laugh at him.
Say no more about a quiet child's shyness or quietness to him than you would about a loud child being loud (in other words, say nothing). Although there shouldn't be, there's sometimes a certain stigma to being "shy," and most introverts don't like people labeling them that way. Remember that buildin
g trust is the name of the game. Genuine kindness goes such a long way for all of us.
Most of all, don't give up. It's not personal. Just like we do as adults, kids want authentic connections—particularly kids who aren't naturally the life of the party.
Once you do connect, it can be the most wonderful and genuine reward.
The Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) may be relatively new as a namesake, but it's certainly not new as many people's reality. Some of us are just wired differently than others, be it from nature or nurture (although in this case, science argues for both).
With our sensitive wiring in mind, those of us who become parents need to learn parenting strategies that are not only effective, but also keep us from feeling overwhelmed by our children--the very people whose care has been entrusted to us.
Personally, I know the HSP life well. I'm the daughter of a highly sensitive person. I, myself, am an HSP. And now, I have little one of my own. I write this based on years of research as well as from my own experience. In other words, I "get it."
My hope is that my research will help the HSP parent find greater peace in their parenting strategies.
In short, MRIs show that the HSP has a nervous system that works differently than that of the other 75 to 80 percent of the population. However, HSP traits don't necessarily manifest the same across the remaining 15 to 20 percent of the population that we comprise.
What science does demonstrate across the board for the HSP, however, is that our MRIs show distinctly different areas of brain activity versus non-HSPs in response to the same stimuli. Specifically, the MRIs show "stronger activation of brain regions involved in awareness, empathy, and self-other processing" (source).
As a result, HSPs can experience the same events entirely differently from non-HSPs. And empathic HSPs take their innate sensitivity a notch farther.
That said, there are a couple of concepts worth noting before addressing parenting strategies: "Highly sensitive people are typically introverts, while empaths can be introverts or extroverts (although most are introverts). Empaths share a highly sensitive person's love of nature and quiet environments, their desire to help others, and their rich inner life." (source)
We can use what we know to our advantage.
While mainstream parenting is, well, mainstream, we simply aren't. Therefore, we can't expect that standard parenting strategies would work well for us. If we try to fit into a certain "box" that doesn't reflect our sensitive nature, parenting might feel harder than it has to be.
Some of these ideas can lighten your load.
Many of us have what feels like a whole lot of extra neurons dedicated to empathy. And HSPs, following a standard rote of discipline that leaves us feeling disconnected from our children simply isn't a good fit.
Parent gently. This includes "parenting" yourself, too. Be kind to yourself and keep your inner (and outer) voice in check.
If HSP parents treat our children harshly, many of us will internalize the punishment and feel it ourselves on some level. If our parents were harsh with us or ignored our big feelings and we have emotional memories of that, we'll feel those feelings all over again as we administer them in our own homes. That doesn't feel good.
Of course, children do need loving limits. With practice, we can hold those loving limits compassionately with our children while also healing your own inner child.
If you're new to gentle parenting or want to learn about it in ways that support the information in the books, many positive parenting groups exist to support you. Support from likeminded parents can help you navigate to a gentler way of being.
Release the pressure to discipline the way our parents did, or our peers did, or the way some outdated parenting book said we should.
Trust your sensitivity to be your ally and your guide.
We all know we can't pour from an empty cup. We'd like to be able to take care of ourselves first. However, some HSPs find it challenging to find parenting strategies that balance self-care and our tendency to put others first.
For me, taking care of myself first just wasn't always my reality. When my child was very little, I couldn't just let her cry and "figure it out," no matter how exhausted I was. Despite the well-meaning (albeit unsolicited) advice from others, I let my heart lead my parenting.
I'd felt better if I'd parented lovingly and while being emotionally present for my child day and night.
Does that mean that I just abandoned my needs, though? Absolutely not. Something that worked really well for my family included reducing screen time and replacing it with story time. We also instituted screen-free days with unexpectedly positive results. That wouldn't work for everyone, of course, but I knew I needed my quiet time to recharge.
So, I created the best of both worlds: quiet and clutter-free areas around the house where I could go to read with (or near) her while still staying emotionally present.
I also made mornings our standard time to get out of the house. That way, I knew I could come home and everything would be quieter from that point forward in our day. Afternoons became a predictably sacred space for us.
"Home days" earned just as much priority as other appointments. I consciously worked to find the patience for positive parenting, knowing that practice would make our inner lives more peaceful. If I couldn't "go" to self-care, I brought peace to meet me where I was.
Many HSPs grew up keenly aware of their sensitivities to sounds, bright lights, and overly gregarious people. Whatever external stimuli triggered you before having kids, they're likely still there, along with the responsibility to raise children despite them. And in many cases, kids are all the noise, lights, and excitement wrapped up into little human-sized packages of energy. That's standard child behavior.
That said, this is in no way a knock on children. They're perfectly good at being exactly who they were designed to be, lights and all. Life moves on, as they say, but becoming a parent doesn't mean you're not yourself anymore. Suddenly, you're responsible for raising a human who might challenge all of your HSP-ness.
Remember how you grounded yourself before you had children. What's something you haven't done in so long that you've nearly forgotten about it, but that helped you find peace?
Consider journaling as a way to reconnect with yourself. It's proven to be a solid and reliable way to express
our own big feelings and working through them peacefully (source).
If you have an understanding partner, share your heart with them. A friend or a counselor can be a wonderful resource for an HSP, as well.
If you don't have a good circle of friends, create your community -- start somewhere. If you lack childcare or the desire to leave the house, connecting virtually can still lift you up. A video or phone chat with a faraway friend does wonders for refueling the emotional tank.
Within certain parameters, even social media can offer some benefits specifically for introverts, including the HSP. Connecting with other adults is easy to overlook because many don't consider it a "parenting strategy." However, connection is critical to our emotional wellbeing.
Connection, in turn, contributes to the emotional fuel we have on reserve for the challenging parenting days---and for all of the regular days, too. If social media starts to creep in too intrusively and negatively affect your relationships, however, know that there are many things you can do to keep your screen time in check.
Finally, not all connection needs to be with people. Connect spiritually. Connect with nature, too -- science shows how beneficial it can be for grounding ourselves (source).
Rather than trying to fit into a mainstream mould that wasn't built for us in the first place, we get to create our own parenting strategies that honor who we are. We can create an approach that 
leaves us feeling encouraged and connected, even despite all the ways that parenting stretches us and pushes our boundaries.
With the natural bigheartedness of HSPs, our children will fare better when we embrace that which comes naturally to us. There's always room for more compassion in the world.
There are a few really detailed and exceptionally good books to study, such as The Highly Sensitive Person by Elaine Aron, PhD, and Reading People by Anne Bogel (the latter is only a chapter, but it's entirely relevant). I 
recommend them to HSPs who want to understand themselves better. They're also beneficial to non-HSPs who want to understand us better.
You can watch a movie about highly sensitive people. You can even take a online quizzes to gauge whether you're a likely an HSP. If you've read this far, though, you probably already know the answer.
I didn't need a quiz or an HSP "label" to understand my own wiring, but it didn't hurt to know what to call it so that I could research beneficial parenting strategies more effectively.
With or without a quiz, if you understand yourself to be an HSP and want parenting strategies that support you, check back here for more resources soon -- including an online session dedicated to parenting a highly sensitive child.
Many kids have an inherent panic response when Mom or Dad starts counting, "1...2...3..."---the three most fearsome numbers of childhood. Although the consequences differ from household to household, counting is often code for imminent trouble. Peaceful, positive parenting can change that. Rather than counting to three as a threat (suggesting punishment that's rarely effective anyway), counting can be a useful parenting tool for you. Here's how.
For those brief seconds, recall a tender moment when your little one was a baby. Remember the feeling of those tiny fingers wrapped around yours. Alternatively, imagine your "baby" being older and moving out of your home. Picturing either extreme will automatically ground you and help you remember how fleeting this moment is. Part of positive parenting can include using mindfulness techniques like this one.
Does that mean you agree to every request or throw your boundaries out the window? Of course not. However, you can reevaluate whether you can say yes more often (you'll find some practical ideas of how to do that here).
Walking past a playground recently on our way somewhere else, my daughter wanted to stop and swing on the swings. We really didn't have time. I could tell by looking at her, though, that it was important to her. So, I said, "Yes, you may swing for three seconds before we keep walking. I'll start counting as soon as you get on the swing, and when I get to three, it'll be time to go." She agreed.
She shed no tears; she didn't negotiate for more time (aside from my agreeing that it was reasonable for her swing to slow down before she hopped off). Part of her lack of desire to negotiate in situations like this is that she's learned she'll often get a "yes"---even if just a brief one.
These little "yeses" can go so far in supporting connection with your child. Some might argue that their child wouldn't get off the swing so easily, but I wonder if they'd consider the time they'd lose in managing their child's disappointment, and the missed opportunity to connect.
It's easy to say yes more often once you practice, and once you build trust with your child that it's what your answer will often be. The "forbidden fruit" they're seeking will feel less forbidden, and therefore be less of a draw, if they feel you're on their side.
This approach also makes your parenting approach easier for your kids because they learn when "no" really needs to happen. They trust it's not arbitrary.
In our house when my child was younger, this "counting to three" took the form of "Would you like to go put on your shoes now, or would you like me to hold you while I count to three so you'll have some time to prepare?" It worked amazingly well. It's as if my child really needed that count of three to ready herself for whatever was coming next, even if the task was as mundane (in adult eyes) as brushing teeth or walking to the car.
Three seconds to adjust is often just enough time to connect and make the transition easier for both of you.
It can be a "yes space" for both of you, child and parent, where you ground yourselves for a better interaction and greater connection. And it can be as easy as 1, 2...well, you know.
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I was always a highly introverted child. It showed. For instance, when I was in high school, I learned that for my dance group's upcoming graduation dinner, the other dancers selected me to receive the spoof award for being the "Most Reserved." Knowing how much I despised being called by a "label" like this one, my Mom suggested that I tape a sign that read "I AM NOT SHY" to the back of my underwear. She said that when I walked up to receive the award, I should moon everyone with my, ahem, (not shy side). Although I appreciated her sentiment, I did not take that advice.
Fortunately, the award never happened, but the message to me was clear. I'd known since I was little that I was simply wired differently from some of the louder kids. And being the good parent that she was, my Mom supported me in that.
In general, the mainstream society in which I live views a gregarious extrovert as socially "good," whereas quiet seems to imply some kind of problem. It isn't a problem at all, of course. Well-meaning adults often pursue introverted children who aren't quick to respond with a sweetly teasing inquiry of "Oh, are you shy?" No matter how good-natured the intention, a child can perceive this as, "You, little human, are not okay as you are." Let's fix that.
In truth, the child may not be shy at all. He may just be an observer who wants to find acceptance in the world. We all want that acceptance. Splitting hairs? Nah. For some, it’s actually quite different, and both can be completely developmentally normal. There's a difference between lacking confidence and being an observer who's sure of oneself. Some kids just prefer to enter the pool through the shallow end, so to speak.
Going slowly gives introverted kids the information they need to feel comfortable in new situations. Regardless of your child’s confidence, it's important for an extrovert who might not share the same "wiring" to understand that the seemingly innocent question about shyness can embarrass or cause pain for some introverted children. Talking with someone who's not a parent, sibling, or close friend might be a completely different experience for that child than it is for someone else.
No, it's not. Shy is a feeling alongside a behavior, as in "I felt shy and hid behind my mom when everyone in the room looked at me." Introverted simply means that someone feels recharged after being able to spend time alone, sometimes with a small group of close friends. Spending time with large groups of people can feel emotionally draining. It's usually temporary and is not a reflection of the child overall. Conversely, extroversion means that someone gets his or her "energy" from being around other people.
It's more about the types of interactions that deplete or invigorate us than it is about how we act in any single situation.
No, it's not. Introverted children are not always highly sensitive, nor is extroversion a trait of lack of sensitivity. Plenty of highly sensitive children like to spend time with others and get a lot of energy from being around others. The behavior of highly sensitive children varies considerably from child to child. That said, according to Dr. Elaine Aron, 70% of highly sensitive children (HSCs) are also introverts, so there's a lot of crossover.
Here are some ways you can support them "in the moment."
To you, it might just be another kid's birthday party. To your child, it might be "a place where people I don't know look at me and adults try to talk to me, and noisy kids are everywhere." Rather than telling your child what others expect of him (which she can perceive as pressure), state just the facts and describe what your child is likely to see there. Then, remind your child that you (or another trusted adult) will be with him the whole time. Finally, agree on a script of what he can say if he needs support. If talking to another adult without your involvement is tricky for your child, consider giving him a small "help card" to show that adult, instead.
If you're staying present with your child, try this.
If someone does say something to your child, then ask your child something like this (within earshot of that person): "Would you like to respond, or shall I tell them you prefer to observe?" There are lots of variations you can try here. Now that I have an introverted child of my own, I've had lots of opportunities to practice with her. Once we graduated from this question, we moved onto, "Would you prefer to say 'hi' or wave?"
Remember the importance of your loving, supportive touch along the way. Introverted children need their parents to follow their lead and reassure them in verbal and non-verbal ways. Your positive support will make the experience less hard, and much more positive, for them.
It's fine to encourage without pressuring. One helpful hint is to wait just past where you're comfortable and give your child enough time to respond. Sometimes it just takes a moment; release your expectations that they won't do it. Maybe they will!
Here's how:
If she chooses not to engage with someone who's talking to her, simply tell the other person: "She prefers to observe until she knows people better."
It's sometimes tempting to overcompensate for child who isn't responding to another adult (or child). If you apologize for your child's lack of response, it might placate the other person, but it sends the message to your child that he's done something wrong. Of course that's not your intention!
What should you do instead if your child isn't responding? Simply smile at the other party and continue the conversation normally. It sends that person AND your child the message that this is no big deal. That's great for your child's comfort level and self-esteem. We all feel more compelled to engage when we lack pressure to do so.
"Shy" and all its word-cousins have a stigma in the culture where I live, although they shouldn't. In many countries, it's actually perceived as rude if an extroverted someone is too over-the-top with energy (and words). In my home, we've banished all references to shy, reserved, and similar; instead, if we use any label at all (and we try to avoid them), we use it only as a verb. With child-first language, we say, "My child prefers to observe." I want to raise her knowing that labels don't define her. She's not my "shy child." She's my child.
It's helpful to listen to your children and seek understanding of what resonates with them. Every child's personality and preferences are different.
Spend time talking about a time you preferred to observe as a child. Introverted children love hearing that others have felt the same way they do. Even if you were usually the life of the party, you likely remember a time that you didn't want to be in the middle of the action. Present it as a positive; it's affirmation that your child is perfectly okay just as he or she is. Your child will flourish best when he or she feels like you "get" it. If you worked through a tricky situation, tell your kid how you did it. Explain your own strategies that have worked (while framing introversion in a positive light).
You know your child best. What kind of stimulation does he or she enjoy? Watch them for cues without projecting your own experience, or that which you've seen the media say is "normal." Are your kids happy spending time in simple play with family, or do they require many activities throughout the day with a large amount of socializing? If you contact your child's teacher with questions about how they learn best in class---in groups or individually---that can be a clue, too. If need be, rule out anxiety disorders that may be affecting your child's social-emotional comfort.
Quiet or not, you're raising a person who will look to you for validation that he or she is "good enough" for the world. There's a lot of pressure out there. And you, dear parents, when you support your children just as they are, are doing them a wonderful and necessary service.
If you don't have an introverted child, the best thing you can do is let the quiet ones be, without judgment or comment. The world needs all of us.
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(Amazon afflinks): These books by Susan Cain and others helped me understand many introverted kids better than any others I've found; I highly recommend them. If you are, or know, an introverted or sensitive adult, they provide fantastic insight.
I've thought long and hard about the best books for kids 2020. It's been an odd year; so odd, in fact, that my child said I might as well go ahead and give her all her Christmas gifts early. (Nice try.)
Not that things were necessarily easy when we were little--the playground could be a pretty rough place for everyone, and definitely so for a highly sensitive soul like mine.
Fortunately, some of the best things from our childhoods are still around: great books. They were an incredible source of comfort and connection for me when I was a child, and they are for my child now, too.
That's part of the reason I've chosen some classics to represent the best books for kids 2020 -- keeping the eternal goodness of books alive and well!
I'm keenly aware of how books can help build a child's self-esteem and confidence in this ever-changing world.
Did you know that reading books has particular benefits when you read them aloud together with your child? As Rasumussen College describes in this report, there are many benefits of reading aloud--not only to little kids, but from prenatal days all the way to adolescence! Wow!
That said, when I read to my kiddo and as I've admitted before, I'm something of a book snob. (Forgive me.) I really like good books that we can enjoy together and that engage us both. If I'm going to read a book 10,000 times (as I undoubtedly will), I want to like it, too.
Like I was, my daughter is a gentle and sensitive soul. She approves these as being among the best books for kids 2020, just like I do. Here's what we enjoy about each of them, along with how they build self-esteem and confidence! (afflinks)
Although I typically promote lesser-known authors, this great book for children just happens to be written by a celebrity. What we like most is that it's just an all around feel-good book.
Bonus points that it's witty and downright entertaining. My child and I come away smiling after we read it, even for the millionth time. No matter what mistakes the boy and girl (the main characters) make, they like themselves, anyway. When other kids are unkind, no problem.
Their self-esteem and confidence are independent of others kids' opinions of them (hello, playground wisdom)! (Special note to parents of sensitive kiddos: the so-called unkindness is extremely mild and the positive message is more than strong enough to compensate for it.)
Sometimes life hands us lemons, and these two choose to rise above it every time. We've read this book at least once per week for the past three years or so. It stands the test of time in our house!
I'll begin by saying that I watched a 20-something year-old man tear up (slightly) as he read this one. If your child has ever lamented that his or her creation didn't come out "perfectly," this will resonate. It did very much for my child, just as it did for me.
The character, despite being "perfect" for most of the book, is somehow completely relatable at the same time. If ever there were a book that tells a child that it's okay to relax and enjoy who he or she is, this is it, in our opinion.
It so beautifully captures the joy of letting go of small or big anxieties about who we are. It gives us permission to like ourselves despite our imperfections. What a wonderful gift!
As one final bonus reason I put this among the best books for kids 2020, is that it's SO relatable. We've watched the world turn upside-down this year, and frankly, many of us have made mistakes in front of our kids. This is a great book to help us all feel a bit more normal and connected through our imperfections.
Similar to the book above, the main character in this story wants his drawings to be perfect and is devastated when someone criticizes his work. When he learns that it's okay to be "good enough," he thrives and rediscovers the joy he had lost.
This is on our list of best books for children 2020 because it emphasizes "process over product"---the philosophy that learning happens through the joy of the creation itself, rather than how it looks in the end.
No one can live up to perfection, and this book makes it perfectly okay to just do the best you can.
Well, the title pretty much sums it up! The pictures are silly and simple. The author chooses lots of ways people can be different, and the core of the message is simply that "You're alright just as you are." What an empowering message for kids of all ages. When it comes right down to it, have you ever met anyone who's not different from everyone else in some wonderful way? Anything that boosts kids' self-esteem and confidence, and helps them accept themselves just the way they are, will make it onto our best books for kids list.
We think this is among the very best kids' book series.
These differ from the others on our list in that they're chapter books, but they're appropriate even for young boys and girls. We started reading them when my child was about four years old. By five, she didn't want us to put them down. Still at 7 and with no end in sight, these make our best books for kids 2020 list because they're sincerely engaging. (Even my husband and I look forward to reading them. My guess is that they have no expiration date age-wise, ever.)
Even I wondered how the protagonist of the stories would help each of the magical animals she encountered. The writing is fantastic. The creativity is solid.
And when it comes to building kids' self-esteem and confidence, there's nothing like watching a child who persists despite adversity and solves tricky problems, to show the value of never giving up. She believes in herself and models how to do that. For what it's worth, I've even caught my husband turning pages when our child is nowhere around. They're that good.
The main character, Raffi, is so extremely relatable, feeling different from other kids and wondering if all kids feel that way. He wonders if he’s “normal,” just like many children have. And by “many” children, I mean every human who’s ever been a child. (Yep, that’s all of us.) This book addresses stereotypes of all kinds and how the protagonist finds self-confidence and acceptance, even when everyone else isn't quite like him. It’s a book every parent should read to his or her child, and then read to his or her own inner child, too. It’s exactly the right combination of feel-good message along with important life lesson.
Many of us are comfortable only within our "safe zones," and Scaredy is no exception. He's about as endearing as they come, with all sorts of irrational fears about coming out of his proverbial shell (or in this case, his tree).
Hilariously, we get to join him on his journey to build confidence and trust that the world isn't quite as dangerous as he fears. Like many of these books, it's stood the test of time in our house.
It always makes me smirk, no matter how many times we read it together. It's an excellent (albeit intentionally silly) model to help kids' build self-esteem and confidence.
Rosie has a passion, but she hides it away for fear of mockery. As this story unfolds, however, she transforms into a bold and confident inventor.
What we like about this book is how it demonstrates that even people with good intentions can inadvertently turn kids away from their dreams; but Rosie overcomes that. We all face adversity in life, but this book helps kids build self-esteem and confidence even after emotional roadblocks.
We love how she recovers from the letdowns and bravely pursues her passion!
A great book for younger kids, this is a sweet and wonderful book for children. It speaks beautifully to trusting kids' natural development and readiness for milestones, and how pressure to make them do things before they're ready seldom works.
Despite adversity, Iffy finds himself in a situation that he didn't really want, but proves to himself that he's braver and stronger than he thought. We cheer for this little creature when his confidence shines through, feeling a sense of recognition in ourselves along his journey.
Based on the true story of Nadia Comaneci, Olympic gold medalist, this is another wonderful example of a child overcoming adversity through incredible persistence.
Although my impression of Nadia is that she was confident from the beginning, it would've been easy for her to lose hope along her journey. She didn't start out as one of the best gymnasts in the world. She experienced failure.
But she kept trying, believing in herself and in her abilities. Knowing that the real Nadia went through all of this before success came, it's a lovely example for children to help them build self-esteem and confidence.
My child received this as a gift when she was three. Still now, she loves to read it. With few words, it's a great introduction for showing kids that mistakes can turn out alright, with the right perspective. There's always a bright side, even when something goes wrong!
We believe that if kids can internalize that they can choose their responses to situations that don't turn out how they want, they'll be better off in the long run.
So many of us have had others' agendas imposed upon us, and we've been left to wonder what life would've been like had we pursued our dreams. This is a beautiful story that addresses just that.
Mae, the protagonist of this story, decides she won't settle for what others want. She rises above others' doubts and finds her joy. As I read this book, I wanted to be Mae. She's strong; brave; real. She perseveres.
This is undoubtedly on our list of best books for kids 2020 to help them believe in themselves.
If this isn't the classic children's book to build self-esteem and confidence, I don't know what is. (Heads up to parents of sensitive kiddos: two of the trains bothered my child just a little until she was about 5, so we skipped them until she was ready.)
The little blue engine, as we all know, isn't the biggest or the strongest, but she believes in herself. She has enough heart to pull a load much greater than her own, up a much higher obstacle than she's encountered before. When it all comes down to it, that's exactly what I want my child to know she's capable of.
What's not to love about Piggie and Gerald? These books are funny and clever. As in, they make my husband and me laugh, not to mention our child.
Moreover, they almost always gently teach a lesson; share a moral, at child-level, that's one the child can take with them throughout their life. Best friend trouble? Difficulty sharing? Navigating someone new who wants to play? These and so many more topics are covered beautifully--and always with a happy ending.
P.S. Make sure to check for the sneaky pigeon at the end. He's always up to something.
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Of course, the best way to help your child internalize these wonderful messages is to not only read the books together, but to discuss them, too. What a wonderful way to connect!
Most kids have inherently good negotiation skills. Pull out a chocolate bar and tell kids to divide it up for themselves, and you'll find quick proof of that. When it comes to conflict resolution and self-regulation, however, many adults wonder whether children possess the emotional intelligence and executive functioning skills to navigate that territory. As a result, many grown-ups are quick to intervene and solve social problems for them. After all, emotions are tricky even for us to manage, so it's tempting to guide our kids when we sense trouble. I know because I've done it.
I'll share an example of how much better it can work when kids figure out how to resolve conflict for themselves, however. When I was in a play-based science class with a group of four- to six-year-olds last week, they made "squishy circuits," where they connected two sets of wires, Play Dough, and mini-lightbulbs to the positive and negative ends of batteries in a particular sequence. If they connected everything correctly, the lightbulbs would light up.
Adults were there to help ensure the kids' safety, of course. (Personally, I'm thankful for observing Teacher Tom in action at another school I visit weekly. He's a world renowned teacher at a play-based preschool in Seattle. He's helped me chill considerably about what I consider dangerous for kids, and he facilitates conflict resolution better than any teacher I've ever seen.)
Once the kids got the hang of basic circuitry, they could get as creative as they wanted with their Play Dough inventions. One five-year-old girl who I'll call Catherine, who regularly displays high emotional intelligence and emotional self regulation, announced that she was going to use her Play Dough to make a kitty with a water bowl. Often demonstrating strong executive functioning skills, she's a "stick to the plan" kind of kid. (Executive functioning includes things like self-control, planning, and the ability to remember instructions. If you're looking for a deeper understanding of executive functioning and self-regulation, this article from Harvard's Center for the Developing Child describes them well.) So, she set to work right away while most of the other kids rolled their materials around haphazardly, deciding what to make.
After about 10 minutes, the girl next to Catherine, another five-year-old I'll call Mia, reached over and demolished Catherine's kitty. I've observed that Mia sometimes lacks the executive function skills to self-regulate. Looking flabbergasted, Catherine called me over to help resolve the conflict, announcing matter-of-factly what Mia had done. It was obvious. Catherine's blue Play Dough that Mia squashed was still in the center of Mia's palm. Mia had been using green.
Before I could say a word, Mia announced loudly, "I didn't do anything wrong!"
I felt tempted to call Mia out on her transgression and show my frustration. My first impulse was to ask her what the heck she was thinking. (I'm still learning and have to catch myself, too.) However, I know an objective tone is more helpful for encouraging honest dialogue. So, I took a breath and stated neutrally to both of them, "It sounds like something happened here." Mia has older siblings at home, and I know she's no stranger to managing conflict situations. I can't say with certainty, however, where she is on developing her executive functioning skills.
Dealing with conflict is a hard life skill to learn, because frankly, negative emotions are hard. I'm an adult and I still don't like conflict. We're not "wired" to like it. However, the ability to recognize someone else's point of view goes a long way toward developing emotional intelligence and self-regulation.
So, I continued.
Me, in a curious and non-accusatory tone: "Mia, I observe blue Play Dough in your hands. I'm feeling curious about that."
Mia: "Well, I did squash her kitty, but she had just started working on it. She didn't care."
Catherine: "I didn't just start working on it. I had been working on it the whole time! It was important to me."
Me: "Hmmm. Catherine, I hear you saying that it was important to you."
Being an active listener, including playing back what you've heard, is a key ingredient in helping kids resolve conflicts. It shows that you're internalizing what they said, and essentially invites them to continue while feeling supported. Accusation is counterproductive; only when kids feel supported can they grow their emotional intelligence effectively.
And as is true with many things, when it comes to engaging in kids' conflicts, less is more. Less adult talking is more beneficial to kids learning to solve problems on their own. When they feel capable of doing that, it reinforces growth in the self-regulation and executive functioning parts of their brains.
Catherine and Mia continued without prompting.
Catherine, addressing me: "I really didn't feel so happy when she did that."
Mia, to Catherine: "No, you were happy."
Catherine: "No, I really didn't feel so happy when you did that."
Mia: "Oh." Mia's eyes went downcast then with apparent remorse, and perhaps with understanding the deeper connection between emotions and behavior.
At that point, they sat together silently, in what seemed to be somewhere between an impasse and emotional connection. I paused for long enough that I was sure each had finished saying her piece. When neither continued, I suggested next steps without solving anything for them, similar to creating a negotiated agreement in a boardroom.
Me: "I'm going to guess that nobody in the room likes getting their Play Dough squashed. I'm wondering if that's true."
Both girls, agreeing: "Yeah. No one should squash Play Dough."
Me: "Okay, then. I think you've solved a problem. Since no one likes getting their stuff squashed, I wonder if we can agree not to squash anyone else's stuff, either." (I essentially played back the solution they'd reached, just broadening it slightly.)
Both girls, nodding vigorously: "Yeah. Let's do that. No squashing people's stuff!" I could almost see the self-regulation synapses connecting in Mia's brain. Moreover, Catherine's emotional intelligence was growing by having expressed her frustration in an appropriate way. She felt "heard" and could move on. Her emotions had no reason to escalate. Executive functioning in action.
All of us: Exhale. Resolution. Consensus.
Both girls seemed resolved in the matter. Their conflict was now water under the bridge. They moved forward happily with their projects.
I fully trust that their self-identified conflict resolution did far more for their executive functioning skills than any punishment or forced apology could have.
And the sooner we let them try, the better. Studies show that practice between the ages of three and five is particularly beneficial. This is also the age that their working memory develops in leaps and bounds, so that they'll have specific experiences upon which to draw as they get older. Areas of the brain that develop during this timeframe are profound and substantially important for future interactions. Some would argue that the ability to self regulate and strong emotional intelligence skills matter far more than IQ alone.
Socially skilled kids can focus attention on managing conflict and growing their relationships with peers. It's possible because they already have the emotional intelligence and self-regulation tools in place to do those things. Conversely, those with executive functioning issues need more practice. The adults in their lives will support them best by resisting the urge to dive in and rescue them when they see any type of conflict; but rather, by letting them attempt their own conflict resolution, even if they get it wrong. Practice makes perfect, right? Our presence is beneficial and sometimes necessary, but our words should be few.
Maybe emotions are tricky for adults to manage because some of us didn't get enough practice when we were kids. I don't know. What I do know anecdotally, however, is that emotionally intelligent kids usually grow up to be emotionally intelligent people (adult-sized, because, of course, kids are people, too). The ability to understand and manage emotions, resolve conflict, and display emotional intelligence is a lifelong gift to ourselves and those around us.
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Trees and lights. Snow and sledding. Family and holidays. For many of us, these are naturally joyful pairs. (Trees and lights are especially exciting if you're a toddler or a cat.)
Of course there's the other side, too. Holiday stress is real for many of us--and it can come crashing down our chimneys with reliable predictability.
Some people hold their breath and just hope for the best, especially if their holiday stress results from spending the holidays with extended family.
According to this Harvard Medical School article, 62% of adults experience "very" or "somewhat" elevated holiday stress levels, partially attributable to family relationships.
After all, family dynamics can be tricky, especially once we have children. Yet, we want our children to experience all the joy that should surround them this time of year, right? Holidays stress doesn't have to be their thing just because it's ours.
Although I won't write about my own holiday stress here because my extended family will read this---I mean, because they're perfect (ahem)---I'll tell you how some people mitigate their anxiety with extended family, especially if All That Togetherness doesn't exactly jingle their bells.
So, what do they do to mitigate the messiness and find joy, instead?
If you're concerned about extended family being a less-than-desirable influence on your kids, find joy and peace in the connection you've created.
If you've parented with the good of the parent-child relationship in mind, then children will naturally gravitate back to the norms of what you've modeled for them.
If you happen to have a child who hangs back at family gatherings, that's perfectly alright. If you're concerned about it, this article about supporting introverted children might help you.
Your kids will join in when they're ready. Let them rest securely in the knowledge that you support their choices and their timing.
For family members who might not understand your child's reluctance to jump right into a big group of people, but who sincerely want to connect with them, you might share ideas like these about how to engage kids without overwhelming them.
Even outgoing kids need support and occasional breaks from the group. Allow them to relax and in your presence, with your full attention. A hug and some verbal support can go a long way.
The more you're there for your kids, the less they'll begin to equate holidays and stress, and will simply find joy in your presence---along with everyone else's.
Many kids love routines and consistency, regardless of age. You can grab your kiddos' usual bedtime story and stick it in your bag if you're visiting relatives out of town.
Odds are good that they'd much rather hear the same story for a few nights in a row than to go without. I call it "Routine in a Box." A few comforts from home will help your child find joy in familiarity, and help you feel merry and bright!
The same goes for touch, even for older kids. If your child normally has a lot of contact with you throughout the day, then he or she will be inclined to crave that and then some (hey, you're their personal lovey!). Stay present. Keep touching.
Obvious, right? Still, somehow, many people go into the holiday stress with extended family as if they were signing up for a hot date in Purgatory. If you find yourself there (with anxiety, I mean, not in Purgatory, because I don't really think that's a thing), give yourself a gold star for each moment you feel peaceful.
Acknowledging and tracking positive feelings among the stressful ones can help you be aware that good things are happening. You can do this, joyfully. Holiday stress and you don't need to share the same strand of lights.
Just like many of us do at home when raising kids, you can take the "pick your battles" mantra on the road, too. It travels beautifully! Things are different now. As the parent of your own children, you get to examine how you were raised.
Engage where you want to. Debate where it's important. This mini-course about what to do when someone you love disagrees with your parenting style can help support you in that.
Ask yourself if you share your extended family's perspectives or have a different take on things. If you observe them, some of your triggers from growing up can offer you insight into your own parenting.
Keeping an open mind can be an incredible gift with psychological benefits, and taking an intellectual approach rather than an emotional one when something bothers you can do wonders for reducing holiday stress. So, you can find joy while you examine your family anew.
More than anything else, be intentional about looking for opportunities to connect and find joy. If Great-Great-Great-Granny's mince pie doesn't do it for you, remember that the cookies are just on the next table over.
Connect with Great-Great-Great Granny over a gingerbread house. Invite her outside to catch snowflakes on your tongues. You might be surprised what she can still do. You, and your kids, will forever cherish the memory.
Holidays and family can, indeed, be a joyful pair, and holiday stress doesn't need to be invited. Our children can see it and be a part of it.
If we've not experienced joy with extended family before, our kids can witness our ability to find it in a whole new way. What a wonderful gift we can give them in allowing them to be part of that.
Childhood fears are as real to them, as our adult ones are to us. Case in point, when my daughter was younger and before I better understood highly sensitive children (afflinks), we drove past Seattle's Fremont Troll and it scared the heck out of her. She dubbed it the second scariest thing in the universe, coming in on her list only behind the scary mice from the Nutcracker ballet.
Now, this was a tricky one, because we'd both seen the troll. I couldn't deny it was there; she didn't imagine it. It was, and is, real.
Bedtime was a mess for a long time thereafter. Eventually, it got easier again...for awhile. But sure enough, before long (and always just as I thought her fear was behind us), the troll would raise its metaphorical head in her bedroom. It became the bane of her existence.
Using my adult logic, I told her it was made of stone and that it couldn't move. It was just a statue. We delved more deeply into physiology than I thought we would at her age, but she wanted to know everything about how real bodies work versus this stone one.
She certainly didn't talk about it often, but if something were to keep her up at night, this was it. So, I did some research about kids' fears.
So, um, good luck, kids!
Knowing this, you see there's not a lot of sense into talking to a part of our kids' brains that can't completely comprehend the message. Scary is scary; fear is fear. Sure, you can (and should) let a child know when something isn't actually a danger to them (and why), but neither logic nor telling them they shouldn't be afraid will address the root of the problem. In fact, telling them not to be afraid might have the effect of making them feel you don't "hear" their concerns. Even as an adult, if another adult were to tell me I shouldn't feel my feelings, their advice would go over like a lead balloon. My feelings are valid to me. My child's feelings are equally valid to her.
So, what can you do when your child expresses a fear, real or imaginary, and you want to support him through it? How can you solve the problem?
This is a tricky one for adults because it feels counterintuitive, but our best option isn't to do something. We can't fix a problem that's not our own. Instead, empathize with your child (highly sensitive or not). Whether it's a monster in the closet, a fear of the dark, or many other common childhood fears, the process is often the same. Here's what I had to learn.
Ironically, this means talking (and "solving") less. I had to refrain from offering my logic and suggestions. If you're anything like me, it will likely feel uncomfortable to you, and might even feel like you're reinforcing the opposite of what you want to convey. Much of active listening involves playing back what you've heard.
The most thorough description I've read of active listening, with loads of examples for all ages (yep, I mean all), is in this phenomenal book. I highly recommend it--it goes well beyond what you'll read here and is an amazing tool to help foster connection and encourage your kids--even older ones--to open up to you. Heck, even my marriage works better when I use the tools therein, but I digress. (Note: I thought I knew what active listening entailed until I read the details. It's not quite as obvious as it sounds, but is an incredibly helpful book for adults. For a kids' "how-to" book about managing worries and anxiety, this book is great.)
Here's how active listening to process the fear transpired in our house:
Her: "Why is the scary troll so scary?"
Me: "You feel really afraid when you think about the troll."
Her: "Yes. It's too scary for me and I want it to go away."
Me: "You wish it would disappear forever. I see how hard it is to fall asleep when you're scared."
Her: "It's SO hard, Mommy! I keep thinking about it. Please don't leave the room."
Me: "I'll stay with you. I'm here for you and I love you."
Was it really the troll keeping her up, or was she afraid of being alone and using it as a scapegoat? It doesn't matter; she needed support and wanted my presence, so I gave it to her. We continued this way for many a night. She wasn't ready for more. Knowing my child as I do, pushing her beyond where she's comfortable would've backfired. It always works better when I trust her timing. In various ways, she indicated that this conversation alone was exactly what she needed. Once she knew I was staying, sleep would come quickly for her, knowing she was heard and supported.
I knew she was ready for the next phase of processing her fear when I tried something new--integrating the troll into a story--and she didn't push back on my attempts. When I'd tried earlier in the process, she'd nervously asked me to stop, so I did. When she listened to the story, I knew she was ready.
By that, I don't mean I waited to see what happened; I made the object of her fear a little less frightening through play (without minimizing her concern). It's was a fine line; I made sure she felt fully supported and emotionally safe before I tried it. One night, I added this:
Her: "Why is the scary troll so scary?"
Me: "It really scares you. (Thoughtful pause.) You know...I wonder how it would look if it were pink."
Her: "Less scary."
Me: "Yeah. I'm going to paint it pink. And paint its hair purple."
Her (slightly smiling): "And its eye, pink sparkle."
Every night, we'd mentally paint the troll different colors.
"I'm going to tell you a story where it becomes a pink helper troll. The troll isn't scary in this story; in fact, it's only a costume to scare away the scary mice (from the aforementioned Nutcracker ballet). This troll protects children..."
She wanted this story for a long time. Eventually, she contributed to the storytelling. This troll became one of the best do-gooders of any character she knew.
All along the way (and during daylight hours only), I'd been suggesting that one day, we go visit the troll that started it all. Up until this point, she had steadfastly refused. I respected her refusal. Putting myself in her shoes, I wouldn't want someone to force me to literally face one of my strongest adult fears up close, if I weren't ready.
I also didn't bring up the troll proactively. When I tried that approach, it seemed to increase her anxiety about it. The process worked better when the troll just found its way into her requests from time to time, as it always did. Sometimes, weeks would pass before it would rear its head again. And each time, we dealt with it, and I tested the waters to see if we could move forward a bit.
One day while talking about it, she asked if we could go and paint a door on the troll. Although I knew adding any form of permanent graffiti on a public work of art wouldn't be acceptable, I felt hopeful and intrigued.
Me: "Yes, we can go visit the troll. And tell me more. Why would you paint a door on it?"
Her: "Because the troll isn't really a troll. He's just a shell filled with chocolate cake, and if we paint a door, we can open it and go inside and get some cake."
Me: "Yes, we can do that. Permanent paint isn't allowed on the troll, but I wonder if we can draw a door on it with chalk. Would that work?"
Her: "Yes, it would. Let's do that. Let's go put the chalk in the car now."
She chose purple, and we embarked upon our very real mission to face hear fear and get the imaginary cake from the troll.
Once we got to the troll, though, she announced, "Mommy, I don't want to draw on it anymore."
My heart sank. I assumed her fear had come back and that we were back to square one (or at least close to it).
Much to my surprise, she matter of factly added, "I don't need the chalk because I'm not afraid of it anymore. It's not scary. It's just...a statue."
Wow.
A lot of single moments, that is. It took a lot of active listening. It took a lot of "baby steps," meeting her right where she was emotionally--encouraging progress, and promoting her ability to conquer her fear without forcing it. This wasn't a band-aid solution. She wouldn't "get over it" just by being instructed to do so. It took time and patience. Most of all, it took trust.
It's still awhile before my child is a teenager, but I want her to be fully rooted in the fact that I do hear her. I want to build the foundation that I can see her perspective before the issues get trickier. I want her to know that I get it, whatever "it" turns out to be.