Children Don’t Need Parents To Teach Them Lessons

But loving arms that hold them while they cry about the lessons learned

My son fell off the wooden bench in our kitchen. He’s 2.5 years old and not tall enough to get down on the ground safely. He jumped, slipped, and hit his head on the edge of the bench. I scooped him up, grabbed an ice pack and a clean towel, and placed it at the back of his head. As I tried to reposition the bag a few seconds later, I heard my husband say, “He’s bleeding.”

I don’t know how I didn’t faint right then and there and, instead, found the strength to come with some band-aid and betadine. It turned out it wasn’t that bad after all, though it was the first time he took a hit that made him bleed.

After wiping his wound, I wiped his tearful eyes and runny nose too. I asked him — You got really scared, didn’t you? He sobbed and confirmed. I continued — Are you feeling a little better now? Does it hurt less? I got a confident “Yes” followed by the order to put him down. Apparently, all he wanted was to climb on a chair, and from there on the kitchen counter, to reach a cupboard on the wall.

I sighed with relief.

Later that evening, when his grandfather was putting him to sleep, I heard him telling my son — See? That’s what happens when you’re naughty! I told you that you’re going to get hurt. You kept saying that you want to!

I bit my tongue and walked away. It wasn’t the time to lecture my dad before my son’s bedtime. Still, I kept asking myself why I was so upset about my dad’s reaction. And then it hit me.

Children need compassion and support, not extra burdens

Many children feel the pressure of their mistakes doubled by the pressure of their parents’ reactions.

When accidents happen, the last thing they need is an interrogation with lots of “why”, “how”, “who”, or “why didn’t you pay attention”?

Questions are only useful when their answers tell you how to help the child or indicate if a more serious medical investigation is required.

When our questions blame the child for what happened, we’re sending him the message that he can’t just come to us with his problems. And that we will always project our frustration on him. Even when we’re merely trying to identify the culprit, we’re making the child relieve the pain and double his burden with our inability to receive and contain his pain.

I don’t know about you, but if I screw up and start crying, I need someone calm to tell me it’s going to be okay. I don’t need anyone to remind me — I told you so! or That’s what you get for….

I’m pretty sure children feel the same.

Allowing a child to feel freely and loudly is one of the greatest gifts

The world is this big cruel place that makes many of us want to cry many times. If a child can’t do it at home, regardless of what makes him sad, where else can he do it?

My mom used to tell me that I shouldn’t feel how I felt. Whenever I was sad, she’d say to me, “Sweetie, you don’t have to be sad!”. She had the best intentions. She was trying to cheer me up. But she often made me feel inadequate.

I want my son to express whatever he’s feeling, with no filters, and without feeling guilty about it. With either his small accidents or significant, intentional but natural conflicts, I want him to talk and cry about it as freely and loudly as he feels the need.

Young children can’t even imagine that there’s something wrong with their parents. And whenever they are being told that what they feel is not okay, they end up believing the adult, convincing themselves that there is, indeed, something wrong with them. The pain of a fall or a bruise will then pierce the skin and the soul. That second pain will be twice as significant and harder to heal.

And in the end, if I want to cultivate my child’s emotional health, I need to let him feel and continuously assure him that it’s okay to have those feelings. That there’s no such thing as good or bad emotions.

Replacing interrogations with connection makes us better parents

Why aren’t the “why” and “how” questions a sign that you’re concerned about his sufferance?

Of course that you want to and should know what happened. But when you use such questions, you’re making it all sound like an interrogation. You’re fueling your anxiety, which will worsen the child’s anxiety.

If you really want to find out what happened and show your child that you care about him and his emotions and that you’re trying to connect with him, you need to show support.

I imagine it hurt you.

Is there anything I can do to ease your pain?

Would it make you feel better to talk about what happened?

Do you want me to hug you?

You can tell me what happened and we’ll find a solution together.

It’s not just how you ask the question. It’s also your willingness to listen non-judgementally, your calm and confident tone of voice, your attitude.

You want to breathe confidence and acceptance rather than the nervousness to find out what happened and who’s to blame.

I try to remember it myself, every time my son gets into trouble, which is every other day.

As parents, we have a lot on our plate and so many things we want to teach our children. When something happens to them, “I told you so” or “See what happens” comes to our lips so quickly that it takes great effort not to say it out loud. In such situations, I pause and look at my child. I really look at him and remind myself that he did the best he could. That’s what children do — the best they can, in every situation.

With this valuable reminder, it gets easier to see that he doesn’t need me to say too many words. He has already learned his lesson. And there will be a time when we will get to talk about it. But that time is not now. Now is the time to hear, receive, and contain all his pain.