22/03/2026
I come alongside him first. I want to understand what he’s asking for and the why behind it. Sometimes a little redirect works but as he gets older, I do less of that. Distraction becomes less effective and sometimes the most important thing is letting him experience the disappointment. The kind but firm no. That’s the lesson.
Before I do anything, I check in with myself how do I want to feel when this is over? At the end of the day when the house is quiet, am I going to feel proud of how I showed up? That question keeps me regulated.
I also ask: is he hungry? Tired? Just off screens? Have I set him up to struggle with this transition?
Then I go in sturdy and warm. Both at once. The answer isn’t changing, and he needs to feel that. The moment he senses my hesitation, he’s in control. I keep dialogue short — the more you talk, the more you delay the feelings that are coming anyway.
He’s allowed to be mad. He’s allowed to have big feelings about the boundary I’m holding. Mad is the bodyguard of sad. I wait for the shift — when the mad softens into something more vulnerable. That’s when I get low to the ground, arms open, and wait.
I’m not hurt by what he says. I don’t go into victim mode. Don’t be another four-year-old in the room. Your child needs you to be the sturdy one.
I’m there when he’s ready. Always.
Gentle parenting isn’t passive parenting. He gets firm, solid no’s — and he gets them with a lot of love. And afterwards, we cuddle.
Healthy adults begin on a change table. 🤍
