When a child—regardless of age—tests a boundary, our reaction to their choices can have a long-lasting effect. When your five-year-old tests her newfound ability to write her name … on her white bedroom furniture, you might be tempted to yell at her and pair that yelling with a punishment like taking away her bedroom furniture. When we were kids, that would have been presented as a completely acceptable end result—“You can’t handle having furniture, so you can’t have furniture.” While she might not draw on her furniture again, I wager she’s also not likely to come to you when she makes a mistake in the future.
If you’re trying instead to raise a child who feels comfortable admitting to you when they’ve messed up, you may want to consider embracing natural consequences. Rather than taking away the furniture, for example, you may require that she spend time scrubbing the marker or pen off the furniture. If this is not the first time she’s colored on something not intended for Pint-Size Picasso-ing, you may let her know that the markers and pens have to “live up high” so they can only be retrieved by a caregiver, and must be used under supervision. While she may not be happy with either of these outcomes, they are proportionate reactions that, especially when explained, leave a child feeling secure and knowledgeable about the boundaries and rules that shape her world.
In the situation of me at the store, the boundary my mom expressed—“You can’t touch anything”—may seem controlling. But upon reflection, the boundary she was setting was “It’s my job to raise you to be a functional adult, so I cannot allow you to be reckless with other people’s property.” Her boundary was there to keep me safe. I have, on more than one occasion, had to haul a child around in a shopping cart because they were overtired and refuse to stay within my eyesight. I’ve also had to lock down devices and screens because my kids figured out how to get around the parental controls and stayed up way too late. I’ve also had to inform my children that the answer to a question asked by their older sibling is not something they themselves are ready to hear—another way of keeping them safe that we will address in chapter 4. In these situations, I remind my children that my whole job as their parent is to love them, keep them safe, and raise them to be functional adults: “I love you too much to let you do this unsafe thing.” It’s simple, it’s to the point, and, again—it’s finite. I will very likely have to explain why the activity or information they’re being denied is unsafe, but this is where that self-reflection of my own boundaries comes into play. Most of the time, I have thought about the situation ahead of time and know exactly why my answer is no.
That’s not to say I can stop them from attempting all stupid things—sometimes the “f*ck around and find out” approach is the best way to learn. I try to think ahead about the different ways my children will make mistakes and push boundaries as they grow in part because I want to keep my promise to myself to (generally) react with their futures in mind and only prevent them from making mistakes that are truly harmful. As I look back on each of my children’s formative years, some mistake patterns seem almost universal. In early childhood, all of my kids proved that small children are egocentric and tethered strongly to “the now.” They had no concept of future consequences, and anything they did to hurt me in anger and retaliation was almost invariably rooted in what would hurt them. I’ve seen more than one art project torn up in a fit of “I’ll show YOU to tell me to stop coloring!” and I’ve consoled all three kids as they learned the very hard lesson that ripping up your art really only impacts … you.
I’ve watched my children test the waters of lying—sneaking treats, extra screen time, or a few more minutes of playing instead of doing what they were asked. And I’ve talked with those same children about trust and how it’s both buildable and fragile. That’s not to say I call out every lie—I don’t! There is a certain sense of autonomy and independence that comes from “pulling one over” on your mom, and if my kids can get that sense of satisfaction from a small lie that doesn’t hurt them or me, I feel like that’s a win. If I catch them out in Every. Single. Tiny. infraction or fib, why would they ever trust that I might treat them with grace and kindness when they make a big bad choice?
Because those big bad choices can and will happen. I remember naively thinking that the bond I had with my eldest child would be much more powerful than all those tropes of the tough teen years … and then he turned thirteen. Along with thirteen came pushing curfew. And Incognito Mode. And whispers with friends. And eye rolls. I didn’t know how it had happened, but suddenly, when my kid looked at me, it was with a certain level of disdain.
Okay, I say I didn’t know how it happened, but I did—like every teenager, his amygdala had outgrown the rest of his brain, as it does in early puberty. The amygdala, one of the parts of his brain responsible for his emotions, was often in the driver’s seat. He was living almost entirely out of his emotional brain, and he was reacting with whatever emotion was strongest long before his cognitive brain could catch up and help him regulate. Once I realized that this was happening, things got … I’m not going to say a lot easier, but they did get easier. When either of us felt ourselves getting heated, we could say “AMYGDALA” and acknowledge that we were being controlled by emotions, not thoughts. Our bond was still strong, and the Foundation of Unconditional Positive Regard that we had built meant that even after slammed doors and yelling fights, we both knew nothing could shake how this mom felt about her child. I also knew that I had a lot of internal work that needed doing—I was reacting (and sometimes overreacting) to him doing things that were completely reasonable for an early teenager to be doing.
When I hit that phase of life with my eldest, I knew I needed to step back and take stock in my values, boundaries, and communication skills. I needed to reflect on why I had the rules I did, what I was expecting from my children, and how I was relaying that information to them. I knew that without understanding why I felt the way I did, I wouldn’t be able to continue guiding my kids as effectively as I wanted to. So I thought about it—what really mattered to me? What was my guiding mission? And that line of thinking led me to the wish I make in every tunnel, at every wishing well, and on every falling star: that my children grow up to be healthy, happy, and successful adults. And part of that happiness means freeing them (and, by extension, myself) of shame when it comes to making mistakes.
This pre-reflection is very helpful, particularly when it comes to situations that may bring up strong emotions from us; situations that remind us of our own childhoods or traumas. If we have not reflected on our boundaries regarding the birds and the bees, we may find ourselves reacting in a way that undermines our goal of raising children who feel comfortable enough to talk to us about their mistakes and ask us the hard questions.
Take, for example, finding out that your six-year-old has played “doctor” with a same-age friend. The conversation could go a couple different ways:
Scene: At the Playground
“Amanda! What are you and Brian doing up in the castle? You’ve been up there a long time!”
“We’re playing doctor!”
“You’re doing WHAT?! Absolutely not! That’s gross and naughty and you’re NEVER going to play with him again! We’re going HOME!”
Amanda has no space to clarify that “playing doctor” means she has wrapped leaves around Brian’s “broken arm” and is listening to his heart with her ear on his chest. She doesn’t understand in the slightest why her parent has reacted this way, because she lacks the context that when her parent was a child, they were spanked after being caught playing a different kind of doctor.
Now imagine that this same parent has reflected on her boundaries and considered what her goals are for raising a child who feels safe asking questions and revealing mistakes:
Scene: Any Home Anywhere
“Amanda? What are you two doing in there? Why are Heather’s pants on the ground?!”
“We are playing doctor! I wanted to see her vulva and she wanted to see mine, so we took turns.”
“Oh goodness. Well, I know you’re curious about other people’s bodies, and it’s normal to be curious. But remember—your brain is only ready to explore your own body right now, not anyone else’s. So everyone needs to put their pants back on and we’re going to play in the living room until Heather’s mom comes back.”
In this scenario, Amanda’s developmentally appropriate curiosity is acknowledged rather than shamed; she is allowed a voice; and she has been redirected into an activity that is more suitable for her brain and her friend’s brain. This scenario has also established a boundary that will hopefully help keep her safe in the future—a knowledge that her body is for her, especially at this age, and not for anyone else. There is also security in knowing that if anyone ever does explore her body, she can tell her safe adult with no negative repercussions.
The situations we’re most afraid of our children getting themselves into are going to be the greatest tests of our love and respect. We don’t want to think about our children making the really big mistakes, but let’s face it—it could happen. I encourage you to challenge yourself with the difficult task of reflecting on what will test you the most.
Maybe it’s finding out your child holds different political views than you do.
Maybe they have changed their spiritual beliefs.
Maybe they love someone you don’t approve of.
Maybe they have hurt themselves … or are hurting someone else.
Maybe they are actively hurting you.
And then figure out how you can unconditionally love and unconditionally respect your child in those scenarios, while asking yourself what the boundaries are within that love and respect. How can you show up and support your child while also maintaining your own mental and physical well-being? Even though it is likely to be one of the most painful exercises you ever do, I encourage you to think about this, and genuinely know that there is nothing your child can do to make you stop loving them. Because that love—and that unconditional positive regard—is tied to trust.
I trust you, my child, to not do something so bad that I ever have to reconsider my love and respect for you, and to come to me when you mess up.
And you can trust me to show up for you, full stop.
CHAPTER 1: IN BRIEF
Unconditional love is expected of parents—many of us choose to be parents, and we love the people we are raising. Expressing this love should happen often and in ways that children can understand at their age level. Unconditional positive regard is different from unconditional love in that it turns an eye to the future by acknowledging the adults our children have the potential to be if they are given autonomy, respect, and boundaries along with that unconditional love.
Key Takeaways
Young children (under 7) are very literal; children between 8 and 11 can begin to understand more abstract ideas and the perspectives of other people; and children 12 and older can engage with higher-level thinking and logic.
Because children’s cognitive abilities change so much as they grow, ways of expressing love should, too. “I will never stop loving you” may be more understandable for a young child than “I love you to the moon and back” because measurement and distance are concepts they may not grasp yet.
A fear of making mistakes can stop a child from asking important questions, so as parents we should foster an understanding that mistakes happen and are meant to be learned from.
Unconditional love and unconditional positive regard happen best when parents and children have healthy boundaries and respect the boundaries of the other people in their lives.
CHAPTER 2 Curiosity
The 1984 World Book Encyclopedia was my gateway to the whole wide world. My parents had spent the earliest part of their marriage—from 1970 to about 1980—as broke college students and parents to both their own children and a whole host of foster children. When my mom graduated from her physical therapy graduate program, they decided to splurge and purchase the full World Book set and any supplementary books available. It was a beloved collection, and it survived the big move from North Dakota to rural Minnesota where it was at my disposal on the living room bookshelf for my entire childhood. My favorite volume was the one that contained the entry for “human anatomy.” Not because it was a super-enthralling read (which I’m sure it was, but I was like … six), but because of the diagrams.
See, the edition of the encyclopedia that my parents had purchased included these clear plastic pages that had the various systems of the body printed on them that stacked together to make a whole person. When you peeled back the page that had the external view of the person, you were greeted with the muscular system. Continue turning pages, and you could see the endocrine system, the vascular system, the skeletal system, and the one that fascinated me the most: the reproductive system. I was fascinated by the parts I knew I had—I had heard the word “uterus” when my mom was pregnant with my little brother. But I was even more fascinated with the part I didn’t have … a penis. There it was, in all its glory—a transparent organ with a clearly defined urethra, testicles, and major blood vessels. As you may have guessed by now, it didn’t really look anything like what a human penis looks like in real life. But to a curious kid, it told me just enough—that a penis was Very Different, but human bodies are mostly very much the same.
