The family was driving home from an outing when their son announced, out of nowhere, that he was very hungry.
He was an intense boy. When he was unhappy, everyone knew it, and he was unhappy a lot.
His parents told him they had already passed the fast food restaurant. He would have to wait until they got home. He got upset. They told him that if they turned around and went back, he would lose time for his favorite TV show at home. He grumbled, but he agreed to wait.
When they pulled into the driveway, he jumped out of the car and ran into the house to make something to eat.
His parents stopped him. "No. First you have to help us empty the car."
He was upset. They had promised he could eat when he got home.
"You still can," they said, "but we have to get this done first. Otherwise the food will go bad, and we won't have anything you like."
Again, he grumbled. Again, he agreed. He helped empty the car.
Then he ran inside for his meal. His mother said, "No. You can't eat yet. You have to take a bath with the other kids."
"But you promised."
"If you don't come in here right now, you're not going to get a meal, and you're not going to watch TV."
That was when he blew up.
I know about that evening because of what happened next. His parents made an appointment with me. They did not come in to ask what had gone wrong. They came in to tell me that what I had been teaching them did not work.
As they told it, the story was about a boy who refused, and refused, and finally exploded.
So I went to the whiteboard and drew the evening out, one step at a time, where all three of us could look at it.
Hungry. Told to wait until home. He agreed.
Home. Told to empty the car first. He agreed.
Car empty. Told to take a bath first, or lose the meal and the TV. That was where he broke.
Once it was on the board, the story changed. This was not a boy who refused, and refused, and exploded. He did what they asked, twice. He was hungry, and he waited. He was still hungry, and he helped empty the car. Each time he did it, the finish line moved.
The third time was different. It moved the finish line again, and it came with a threat: no meal and no TV. By the end, he had already done what they'd asked, twice, but no one acknowledged that effort.
That was the last straw. The bath was never the problem. A bath is a small thing. What he could not take was being threatened, as if he had done nothing, after everything he had already done to go along with them.
His parents were not happy with me that day. Nobody likes to see their own part laid out on a whiteboard. They could finally see how it happened, though, and that was the beginning of things getting better.
What his parents broke that evening was not a rule. It was their word.
Every time a parent makes a promise and keeps it, a child learns something: when Mom or Dad says it, it is true. That trust is what makes the next "wait" possible. A child who believes the food really is coming can wait for it.
Every time the promise moves, the child learns something too. He learns that doing what he is asked does not get him what he was told he would get. Once a boy has learned this, he has no reason to cooperate the next time. Why wait, when waiting never pays?
This is how a cooperative child can start to look defiant. He was not born saying no. He learned, one moved finish line at a time, that yes did not work.
There is something else in this story that I would point out to any parent, because I am a pediatrician. The boy was hungry. That is a real need, not a whim. A hungry child is running on empty, and a child running on empty has much less patience than he will have after a sandwich. The adults asked the most of him at exactly the moment he had the least to give.
None of this makes his parents bad people. They were tired, too. The groceries really did need to come in, and the kids really did need baths. Every family has evenings like this. The point is not to never have one. The point is to see it clearly enough that the next one goes differently.
If this sounds like your house, here is what I would tell you if you were sitting across from me.
Make fewer promises, and keep every one. A small promise you keep is worth more than a big one you have to take back.
Say the whole plan at the start. "When we get home, you'll help carry in the bags, and then you can eat." The car still gets emptied. The difference is that he knew it was coming. Nothing was taken away, because nothing was promised that wasn't true.
Meet the real need first. Before the chores, give a hungry child a piece of fruit or a handful of crackers. He will start the chores as a different child.
If plans truly have to change, say so and own it. "I told you that you could eat as soon as we got home. I shouldn't have promised that, because the bags have to come in. I'm sorry. Here is what we'll do." Saying sorry to your child does not weaken you. It shows him that your word still means something, even when it has to bend.
Notice when he cooperates. "You waited the whole way home. Thank you." A child who hears that his yes was seen has a reason to say yes again.
Count the yeses, not just the blowup. After a hard evening, walk back through it and ask: how many times did he do what I asked before he broke? The answer is often more than you think.
That last one is what the whiteboard did for this family. In a few weeks, I'll show you how to do it yourself, at your kitchen table, with nothing more than a piece of paper.
The boy in the car did not need a stricter plan. He needed his parents to keep their word.
If you work with families and one came to mind while you were reading this, please forward it to them. Somebody has probably already told them their child won't listen. Nobody has told them how many times he already did.
Warmly,
Dr. Pat
Patricia McGuire, MD, FAAP
Developmental-Behavioral Pediatrician
P.S. If mornings are where the promises fall apart at your house, I made a small free card for that. It is called Three Lines for the Hardest Ten Minutes of the Morning, and it gives you three short sentences to say when a strong-willed child is digging in and the bus is coming.
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