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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.

When you're upset with your child, silently count to three, just for yourself, while thinking about a special moment in your child's past (or future).

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.

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If your child is asking to do something you'd rather not do, see if you can say "yes" and grant their request for three seconds (or three minutes, or whatever you can manage).

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.

1-2-3 magic counting to three

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.

If a transition from one activity to another is hard (as it often is for kids) and you're triggered because you need to move onto the next task, use your "three" to give them a few moments to adjust to whatever needs to happen next.

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.

"Three" can be a place of peace.

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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Further reading

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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.

One of the things I learned is that logic doesn't always "fix" childhood fear; in fact, it rarely does. Sure, if we're using our rational mind, it does. But the part of our brains that processes fear rationally doesn't reach maturity until about age 25*.

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.

First, I had to learn how to actively listen to childhood fears.

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.

With this, I learned to play out her childhood fears. 

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.

After that, we graduated to the next level: diffusing the fear.

"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.

I learned how important it was to trust her timing.

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.

All that fear came undone in a single moment; a single awakening.

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.

positive parenting
Helpful positive discipline book for WAY beyond preschool, in my opinion

We were every cliché: she spilled her milk all over the table and was using her fingers to spread it into a big and messy design; I was already waaaay late making dinner. I was feeling anxious and frustrated, and struggling to be mindful of the positive parenting ideas from part one of this article. (Yep, I'm human, too.) Forget "don't cry over spilled milk"—I just wanted her to stop it.

Doing my best to manage my frustration but failing pretty miserably, I heard myself ask impatiently, "What are you doing?" It was a ridiculous question. My eyes work. I could see what she was doing. Fortunately, she overlooked my tone and simply responded, "I'm doing what the book said. I'm turning an 'oops' into something beautiful!" (afflinks) Oh. That's right! I taught her that positive outlook from a book, and I did it intentionally there in that gentle parenting-driven exchange (cough, cough, ahem...I wish).

As it turns out, I had just gotten lucky. As expert Kelly Matthews of A Place for You Early Childhood Consulting suggests (and as she learned from her mentor, Deb Curtis), "Don't get mad, get curious!" Wow, what a paradigm shift, and what a wonderful mantra for the heat of the moment! I'll admit that when I'm in a tough place mentally, my default is sometimes frustration. When I'm in that mental state, I don't always assume the best of my child's intentions. That's my problem, though, and not hers. Oftentimes, she's simply exploring something in an age-appropriate way* that my adult brain has forgotten; wondering how something works rather than trying to break it.

Before you think I'm saying you should never be angry or frustrated, let me clarify. All your emotions are valid. Anger and frustration serve a necessary purpose—they're your built-in warning system that a boundary has been crossed, no matter the source. In addition, anger often covers up other emotions that warrant exploring, if you can imagine anger as the tip of a complex iceberg**. It's critical that you be able to express your anger in productive ways. So, the questions become how you process and express it, and what you can do to maintain gentle parenting even when you're upset.

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In the toughest moments, when gentle parenting seems impossible, you can try a few things to ground yourself:

1. Don't get mad; get curious

Take two seconds and remember those wise words: "Don't get mad, get curious." Consider the possibility that you might be missing some information that would change your perspective. Case in point: my girl's attempt to "fix" her spill by turning it into art. Incidentally, after writing this article, I read the best chapter I've ever read about anger and other big feelings. Although I wish the book's title were different, since, in my opinion, the information applies waaaaay beyond little kids, Positive Discipline for Preschoolers is an incredible resource. It's hugely insightful and offers a host of helpful ideas for you and your child.

2. Make eye contact

I can't overestimate the power of looking into your child's eyes. Before you say anything at all, get on your child's level and look directly into his gaze. It's much easier to feel upset with another person when you're in fight or flight mode and looking at a mess / the back of your child's head / anything that doesn't drive empathy. Conversely, it's much easier to feel compassion toward another person when you're looking him in the eye. Drs. Seigel and Bryson suggest getting even lower than your child's eye level to remove the intimidation factor (details in their book).

This type of "look me in the eye" is completely different than how many of us were raised, where a threat was attached to it. This is an effort to rebuild connection, regardless who was wronged in the tough situation through which you're working. Genuine, sincere eye contact "in the moment" can diffuse all sorts of negativity. Moreover, eye contact on a regular basis is connection technique that lasts. Practice it genuinely and authentically. The more you practice really seeing your child and connecting visually in the good moments, the more of a default it will be in the bad ones.

3. Use your inside voice

Now, it's (maybe) time to say something to your child. Some of us naturally yell when we're upset. Others of us, don't. Either way, we all have a "mad voice," and our kids recognize it. For the record, I don't write "inside voice" to sound patronizing; rather, I use it because we've all heard it, so it's easy to remember. No matter your volume, when you're ready to talk, speak to your child much more quietly than you normally would. If you're thinking, "...but my kids don't listen unless I yell," I'd challenge you to rock their worlds—and get their attention—by doing the opposite of what you normally do. Even if you're naturally soft spoken, whispering (or using a quiet voice) takes intimidation off the table and helps you connect to your child.

From an evolutionary perspective, yelling raises adrenaline and helped earlier humans prepare their bodies to fight. We certainly weren’t going to reason with a saber tooth tiger. So, to the extent that yelling can actually increase your anger*** rather than quell it, whispering can automatically reduce the adrenaline that fuels it. A quieter voice than usual, then, makes you calmer and may reduce your child's resistance to what you're saying. Win/win. Note, if you're seething and whisper-yelling through gritted teeth, skip to idea #4 and try this again when you're ready. Ground yourself first. See the footnotes for the science behind this.

4. Give yourself a time out, if need be

Too triggered to connect? Rather than sending your child away (which I don't advocate regardless), let her know that you're upset and that you need to calm down. It's okay to use those words; you're modeling real feelings and the need we all have for space to process. Your tone can reflect your feelings here; model authenticity. Make sure she's in a safe place and assure her that you're coming back soon. Of course, stay within a safe distance if your child is young.

Taking time to compose yourself is always preferable to saying or doing something you'll regret later. Avoid labeling your reason for distance as being because of something your child did (which can result in shame); rather, model it as a healthy way to cool off when you're too triggered to speak calmly. "I feel..." statements work well here (as in, "I feel frustrated and need to go into the bedroom to calm down, but I'll be back in a minute."). For little kids who don't yet understand time as we do, it helps to give them a frame of reference they understand, such as, "I'll be back by the time you could sing the ABC song three times." When you're in a calmer place, go back to your child and try idea #3 again.

5. Leave the scene of the crime 

It's easy to stay mad about a situation when you're still looking right at it. Maybe something your child did triggered you; maybe he said something that pushed you over the edge (or maybe, just maybe, the issue was just yours but it manifested in him). If you're still feeling triggered, invite your child to another location to discuss what happened and how to improve things for the future.

Best case scenario, you head outside together to talk about it. Fresh air is amazing medicine. Or, your approach might simply be, using collaborative language, "Let's go sit on the floor together in the living room and work through this." (Unusual locations can give you a new perspective mentally, strange as it sounds.) Physically removing yourself from the place where you had your most visceral reaction can be tremendously helpful for your psyche. It's literally neutral territory. A change of scenery can help you see more clearly before you work through whatever happens next. Refrain from creating a "danger zone" where you simply move your child elsewhere for so-called punishment; this is intended to be a safe space for you both.

Extend grace to your child, just as you hope others will for you. Oh, yeah. And breathe.  Anger has a place in parenting, just like it does in all relationships. Fortunately, a strong connection can overcome the tough moments. And with gentle parenting, you can demonstrate effective and loving ways to help your kids navigate it in their own lives.

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**Source: https://www.gottman.com/blog/the-anger-iceberg/

*** Source: http://www.apa.org/monitor/nov04/hormones.aspx 

We've all had that class—the one we were required to take to fill some requirement, but had absolutely no interest in taking. For me, it was a summer class during grad school. It was called "Miscommunication," and I agreed--it must've been some incredible misunderstanding that I wasn't at the beach. However, as much as it pains me to admit it, that wise old professor taught me some of the most important lessons I've learned in life. And I use them every single day as a parent.

One of the most profound of his statements was this: If you have a good relationship in your life, do everything in your power to preserve it. If there's one "big picture" concept that applies to all relationships, that's it. Studies show that in adult relationships, it takes at least five good interactions to compensate for a single bad one*.

Of course, parent/child relationships have some inherent differences, but the general science still applies. Moreover, our time with our kids is limited, and their impressions of us are forming with every interaction. This is the time we have to build (or rebuild) trust that we're on their side, as Dr. Gordon Neufield explains in this powerful book (afflinks). Even knowing this, parenting is hard. Parenting gently, for many of us, is harder. With all the stressors adults bear, trying to keep it together and parent "right" (whatever that means) can be exhausting.

So, how do you manage to keep your interactions with your kid positive and preserve this ever-so-critical relationship? Where can you find the patience?

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1. Take care of yourself

I'm not going to suggest self-care the way many other parenting articles do. For those of you who benefit from a spa day or girls' (or guys') night out, that's awesome. If they work for you, by all means, do those things. For me, however, those suggestions only added to my stress. I didn’t want to do the things the articles said I should do. When I read that those were the keys to finding patience with my kid, they just didn't resonate.

My suggestion: take care of yourself by knowing yourself.

If time away from your child recharges your batteries, take time away and enjoy it without guilt. If time away doesn’t bring you peace, you don’t have to go out. You have permission to go. And you have permission to stay home. This is about finding peace for you, not for your next door neighbor.

The more people told me I "had to get out" when my child was little, the more I felt ashamed that I was getting something (else) wrong. It took me awhile to get comfortable enough in my parenting skin to figure out that my outlets for stress are spending time with like-minded parents (together with our kids), and writing. Are those things sexy? Not particularly, but they're me, and they make me happy. Your outlets for stress relief don't have to look "right" to others from the outside. Your way works. Find it. Trust it. Then do it. Being in a good place emotionally—feeling recharged—naturally increases your patience.

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2. Love your child's children

A very wise person I know recently reminded a group of adults that "You're raising your son's sons; you're raising your daughter's daughters." The way you interact with your children today will form the "hard wiring" that their brains create and will retain for the automatic responses that come when they're raising their own kids someday. Know your impact. Internalizing that is powerful.

If you can, remember it when your toddler is taking 20 minutes to put on his own shoe; when your daughter is taking forever to finish a song she's been working on before she comes to the table for dinner. Remember, especially when your child is in the most difficult of moods, that you have the power to respond with patience and grace. Be aware that you're teaching your child how to treat his or her children someday. Model the patience you want them to have.

3. Check your "hard wiring" 

Reflect on who raised you. You have the gift of being able to actively choose what you want to emulate and what you want to avoid. Remember details of the times you felt the safest and most loved; actively choose to repeat history in those ways.

I recently spoke with a friend who was concerned about letting her daughter into her bedroom at night to sleep in a little "nest" of pillows she'd made on the floor. It went against my friend's self-imposed rule that kids need to stay in their own rooms, which had been her parents' rule, too. She then confided in me that one of her warmest memories of her mother was when she'd let her sneak into her room and sleep on the floor next to her parents' bed. As she spoke, I observed her visibly soften when she realized what a gift she could give her little girl by letting her in sometimes.

Review the "rule book" in your head and see if any of those rules might just be written in pencil. Keep the boundaries you need; examine where you can start anew with some fresh ideas that might bring you and your child closer. Feelings of closeness inherently create space for patience with your kids.

And good news: we get do-overs.

One of the wonderful things about our brains is the concept of neuroplasticity: we can create new habits. Our automatic responses today don't have to be the ones to which we default a year from now. You can learn more about this in one of my favorite parenting books by Drs. Siegel and Bryson.

Your children are hard wired to want a good relationship with you. Parents, too, are naturally inclined to love the little people whose lives are entrusted to them. It all starts out exactly as it should. This is, or has the potential to be, one of the very best relationships in your entire life. And in theirs. You have a wonderful ability to preserve it.

For ideas of how to stay calm when you're smack-dab  in the middle of a tricky moment with your child, read on to part two of this article. And exhale. You've got this.

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* https://www.gottman.com/blog/the-magic-relationship-ratio-according-science/

Ice cream for breakfast; impromptu gifts; cookies for lunch; no responsibilities ever; cake for dinner...oops...hold on...that's my wish list, and I'm supposed to be writing about kids.

A lot of people think positive parenting means giving children everything they ask for (i.e., permissive parenting). If I had a nickel for every time I've heard that, I'd be able to buy a crazy-ton of ice cream. That said, and as my child will readily tell you, there are plenty of limits in our house. And sadly, we don't have ice cream for breakfast every day.

Many years ago, I took an executive negotiation class that completely changed my perspective on "no." It's been one of the best parenting tools I've learned.

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As odd as it sounds, the most successful "no" often sounds surprisingly positive. Encouraging, even.

Who’d have thought executive negotiation tactics would double as positive parenting tools? Before anyone worries that I'm suggesting children should negotiate everything with their parents, I'm not. I strongly believe, however, that the words we use with our children become their inner dialogue as they grow. As a result, I  suggest is open respectful dialogue with our kids regardless of their ages.

Our messages and tone stick with them. I see evidence of that in my own child in the ways she matures and processes various situations. The world will give her plenty of no's (heck, it already does), so I choose to teach her optimism and hope as tools for resiliency. And more than that, there's plenty of Internet-searchable evidence that authoritarian ("my way or the highway") parenting causes substantially more harm than good.

Now that that's out of the way, I'm paraphrasing the executive negotiation class I took and translating it to real-life scenarios for raising kids.

Here are the key takeaways:

1. Skip the battle.

If you know you're going to a store that has things your child will ask for but you're not planning to buy them today, offer a preemptive alternative. Different from a "negative no," which might sound like this, "We're going to the store now, but you're not getting anything," spin it a different way. Try this: "We're going to the store now. If you see something you like while we're there, remind me to take a picture of it. We'll put it on your list." Helpful hint: Building your child's trust that something is actually going on his list might not happen overnight. When you do buy something for him at a later date, it helps to verbally add something like, "I remembered that time we went shopping and you put it on your list. That's how I knew you'd like it." Reinforce that you've paid attention.

2. Offer some control.

People (big and little) often feel the most defensive when they feel they have no control over a situation. With my child, when it's time to get out of the pool (or off the swings, or whatever), I know better than to spring the news on her and expect immediate compliance. Fair warning helps everyone involved. That said, for a child who can't tell time, "We're leaving in five minutes" would be meaningless, but in some situations, it can be helpful for older kids. If your child wants to keep doing what he's doing but your answer is no, reduce your child's resistance by trying this: "It's almost time to go. You pick a number (or give a range you can manage, especially if your child knows lots of numbers). I'll count to that number while you finish what you're doing, and then we'll go. What number would you like?" For what seemed like forever, the highest number my child knew was 31. Counting to her "biggest number" helped her feel like we were staying for the maximum amount of time in her universe of numbers, and the glimmer in her eyes as I counted proved how she loved having that influence on our day.

3. Agree for a future date.

Sometimes, there really isn't a way to accommodate your child's request when she wants something. That's fine. Give her peace of mind by telling her when her request (or a version thereof) will happen, instead. Example: she wants chocolate chips on her French toast. Try this: "Chocolate chips really are delicious! Although I'm not putting them on your breakfast this morning, how about if we plan to make that pumpkin chocolate chip bread you like this weekend?" Again, the part you own is making good on the alternative you've suggested. Build trust that you'll follow through. If she wants to go somewhere you can't go right now, intentionally let her watch you put in on the calendar for a day you can go. There's a world of difference for a child between hearing you say, "Sure, another time," which he likely translates as "Maybe never," and "Yes, let's put it on the calendar together. Come look with me for our first available day." Moreover, apply this to little things while you're building trust in this area. Nothing is too small when it's important to your child.

4. Reframe the "no."

Sometimes, when I'm tired or impatient, I hear myself bark, "No, stop that!" What I fail to teach in those moments, though, is why it's important for my child to change course. Unless it's an urgent safety issue, find a positive way to redirect your child. Little and big kids need this. A better option for a little kid might be, for example, "That's the floor. Let's find some paper for you to color on, instead." For a bigger kid, try, "Hmmm, it's getting close to dinner time, so let's stay inside now and make a plan to go back out tomorrow." I hear myself say, "Let's make a plan..." a lot when the timing or approach my child is using isn't workable for me. Choose your words wisely.

Note that in all of these examples, there's no unreasonable negotiating, no cajoling, and no bribing: we’re shopping, but not buying what you want today; you need to stop doing what you're doing; we're not having chocolate chips today.

BUT, if you work to find a “yes” that you can offer, you might find that: "Yes, we can do that tomorrow."and"We're all done with it for today, but let's make a plan to do it again in the morning!"and"Let's wave at the playground as we walk past it today and tell it we'll see it on Thursday!"and"Yes, the next time we're at the store, you can pick some out."

5. Find something on which you can agree.

When all else fails, in executive negotiation terms, find your BANTA (Best Alternative to a Negotiated Agreement). BANTA means that even if you can't reach agreement with your child, you can still find something to agree on, even if it's agreeing that it's hard to not get what he wants. Sometimes, no just needs to be no.

Offer empathy while your child emotionally processes the limit. It's normal for her to get upset sometimes, and you don't need to "fix" it; just help her understand that you're on her side (even when you disagree). Feel her perspective; internalize it. Sit quietly with her while she expresses her disappointment, just listening and understanding, without justifying or defending your position. Be loving in your "no." Stay with her. Hear her. As always, examine whether you can say "yes," and say it as often as possible. Sometimes, I catch myself saying no because, gulp, I have the Parental Power to Say No, and I don't even know why I've said it. When I think about it objectively, though, I realize how much more often I can say "yes." And do you know what I've learned? Many things, actually—and among them, that chocolate chips are sometimes an excellent alternative to syrup on French toast.

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You might also like: The Positive Parenting Version of Counting to Three

 

 

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