Respond with Sensitivity – Page 5

Parenting Outside the Box

This year’s theme for AP Month, “Parenting Creatively: The Art of Parenting,” gives us all an opportunity to look a little closer at the ways in which we are (or are not) fostering creativity in our parenting approach. It’s often easy to play creatively, but it’s a bit harder to find our creative flow in more challenging situations, like when the little one is starting to crumble in the cereal aisle. But if we can see past our adult rules, social pressures and parental blinkers, a little creativity can go a very long way in such situations.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget the doctor’s face when little Bean started jumping, arms outstretched, and singing, “Laaaaaaaa!” because she wasn’t allowed to leave the room until our appointment was over. Or perhaps more memorable was the doctor’s expression when I said to my now calm and giggling toddler, “You felt frustrated so you jumped and sang! What a positive outlet for a difficult emotion!”

I should probably explain … when little Bean was about 18 months old, I noticed that she, like all toddlers, was starting to feel frustrated when she couldn’t do what she wanted when she wanted to do it. While in most situations I follow her lead to an extent that frustration is rare, there are times when we really must do something, like sit through an appointment. So I started to think outside the box: when I feel frustrated, what makes me feel better? I came up with exercise and singing, basically “letting it all out.”

I applied this to little Bean. I figured that while she can’t exactly go for a run in all situations, she can always use her voice, and she can usually jump on the spot. So I simply let her know that when she feels frustrated, jumping and singing is a really positive outlet for that very normal yet difficult emotion. Oh, and I started to jump and sing a lot, too. I jumped when I forgot my shopping list or dropped my keys. I sang when I broke a glass or was running late. I was the all-singing, all-jumping, crazy mama bouncing her way through her more difficult moments.

Once all of the jumping and singing was over, and the onlookers had moved on, little Bean and I would talk it out. On the occasions when there was an underlying issue to resolve and the mini endorphin kick hadn’t wiped out the frustration, it was so much easier to remedy, to explain and to work through the situation with a calmer Bean.

I’m not saying that our method is foolproof; there are times when no amount of jumping will prevent a mini-meltdown. But it slows the landslide and helps little Bean to start to recognise the emotion herself. She often sees me pre-mama-meltdown and says, “Mama, laaaaaa!” Ingeniously perceptive? Well, obviously. But bias aside, I believe that all toddlers understand these emotions and can recognise them in others–they just don’t know how to deal with them. And for how many of us adults does that statement still ring true?

Our sing-alongs help little Bean to deal with these difficult emotions. I wish these tools came more naturally to me, and I hope that by opening them up for little Bean while she is still a toddler, her toolbox for dealing with life’s emotions will be jam-packed full. Even if that means her toolbox is thought of by passersby as “outside the box.”

A Tangible Approach to Time

Parenting is the most rewarding yet most challenging job there is. Children change so quickly. What worked yesterday may not work today, and what works today may not work tomorrow. Being creative in our parenting is practically a must.

Each child is different and needs to have her needs met in a way that works for her. Honesty and communication can ease anxiety and help a child to understand the world around him. Finding ways to explain certain concepts, ideas or situations to young children may take some creative thinking but is far better than dismissing a concept as being too mature for a child to comprehend.

My husband has a wonderful job that he excels at. His career and hard work allow me the privilege to be home to raise our daughter. My daughter and I have endless amounts of fun together every day, and we are certainly just about as close as mother and daughter can be. While our little girl definitely enjoys her mommy time, she is undoubtedly Daddy’s little girl. She stands watch at the door when she knows he is on his way home, loves to play with him every evening, and looks forward to family time on weekends.

My husband’s job does require a certain amount of travel. Since becoming parents, we have been rather fortunate that there has been minimal travel, usually not amounting to more than a few days at a time. The last time my husband had to go out of town, our daughter was a little over a year old and didn’t entirely understand the concept of him leaving. She was happy when he was returned home but didn’t seem to be too affected by his absence.

This past business trip, however, required my husband to be out of town for two weeks. Two weeks is a long time for us to be apart from our favorite person.

While technology has made it much easier to keep in touch during the absence of a loved one (Face Time has been our family favorite), time can still be a difficult concept for toddlers to fully comprehend. Our daughter is two and understands pretty well the meaning of yesterday and tomorrow. Explaining to her the concept of Daddy being gone for two weeks, however, was not an easy task. I decided to make a tangible representation of two weeks for our daughter in the form of a countdown chain.

At the end of each day, after a Face Time session with Daddy, I had our daughter tear off a link in the chain. Each link represented a day that Daddy was gone. At the end of the chain was a circle with the words “Daddy is Home!”

This method worked brilliantly. With each paper link she tore off, our daughter would happily say, “We are one day closer to Daddy!” While our little girl certainly missed her daddy, she found it much easier to understand when he was coming home with the help of her countdown chain.

Children are far brighter than we sometimes give them credit for. Just because they are not able to fully understand a concept in the way that an adult might, it doesn’t mean that they are unable to understand that very same concept when put in terms that they can relate to.

All it takes is a little creativity and a whole lot of love.

When One Parent is Away (A Lot)

Sometimes I think of our family as an airplane and my husband and I the co-pilots. We are responsible for our precious passengers, our children, and we do our best to fly over beautiful vistas, look out for bad weather and provide decent meals. We love flying our plane and help each other navigate, give each other time to rest when needed and hold hands when things get bumpy.

But as life would have it, my co-pilot has a job that takes him away from our family quite often. And so I have spent many hours in the cockpit of our family plane alone. I have though a lot about what to call this time when I am parenting without my husband. I have decided to call it Solo Parenting, as in Solo Flying. I am up there in the pilot seat in charge of all the controls. My passengers are my responsibility, and I am an expert at simultaneously looking for bad weather ahead, keeping the plane steady, all while preparing some tasty meals.

But the seat next to me is empty. What helps me about this metaphor is that although I am parenting by myself while my husband is away, I always feel his place in our family. I can see the empty co-pilot seat next to me, so to speak. We miss him, and although I can run the plane alone, it is so much more fun and less tiring to do as a team.

My children have always lived in a family where their mother is ever-present and their father is not. Because they do not have both parents available every day, we have worked hard to make the rest of their lives feel consistent and reliable. Little things add up to life feeling safe and predictable: songs to brush teeth by, games for getting on shoes, routines at night for snuggles and singing. Time for play and time for rest. Rhythms of a day and a week. Pancakes every Sunday morning, homework after dinner each night.

We don’t like it when Daddy is away, but we are used to it. Sometimes we need to say how hard it is and how much we miss him, while other times saying it out loud makes it worse. My job is to give my children the opportunity, but not the requirement, to express their feelings. They come up while drawing together, making up silly songs in the car, and at bedtime when thoughts from the day are shared.

We stay in touch as much as we can with modern technology. I tell them when I am sending Daddy messages and photos. They know their co-pilots are still a team even when Daddy’s seat is empty. But I’ve noticed that my children want to hear about Daddy more than to talk to him directly. I think it is because talking to him on the phone is not close enough. They want to sit on his lap and talk. They want to be chased and snuggled. The voice on the phone is a reminder that he is far away. So we don’t insist that they talk to him on the phone. Seeing him on a screen is easier, and they like to have him show the view from his hotel room. But these are short interactions, rarely a time for long conversations.

Transitions are tricky, and we have developed some ways to smooth the hellos and goodbyes. My husband always asks for help packing, and often our children sneak little love notes in when he is not looking. As he leaves, he always gives a round of hugs and then says, “Be good!” We answer, “You too!” and that makes us laugh.

Later in the day we check the map and talk about where Daddy is headed and what route he will take to get there. We find the spot he will be and trace back and forth from us to him. We talk about holding him in our hearts. Sometimes we get out the globe and talk about whether it will be dark for him when it is light for us and vice versa. This orienting helps make his absence concrete; he is not just gone, he is some place specific in the world, and we can see it on a map.

When he gets home, there are more hugs, and then he takes out postcards from whatever city he has visited. Each child gets a postcard, and we all sit together looking at them and listening to stories about my husband’s trip. The postcards go in a big basket to be looked at again and again, and eventually many are put up on the wall. This simple routine has become very powerful for reconnecting our family. It gives us a focus at the moment when emotions are high and everyone is tired. It gives us a reason to sit together and a chance to begin to tell the stories of our time apart.

Making room for my co-pilot to join me as a co-parent after an absence takes mindfulness on my part. I get used to doing everything, and so I have to remind myself to let him step in for the little things like helping wash hands, putting on shoes, going out to get the mail and peeling an apple.

We have a lot of family hugs in the days after he returns. We try to spend a day doing nothing in particular, giving us time to rest, play and be together with no agenda or time pressure. And we go on adventures together to celebrate our togetherness. But best of all, we continue the day in and day out rhythm of our lives, co-pilots holding hands and passengers dancing in the aisles, waiting for their next in-flight meal.

AP Month 2013 Celebrates “Parenting Creatively: The Art of Parenting”

Welcome to AP Month 2013! This year, we celebrate the theme of “Parenting Creatively: The Art of Parenting.” We’ll explore what that means by looking at some of the aspects of creativity that fall squarely in the context of nurturing our children as well as ourselves. Join us as we discover and share about the conditions that we can cultivate, experiment with, choose from and enjoy each day that promote creativity in, among and between members of the whole family. We invite you to participate in all of our AP Month activities designed to help orient us in small ways to attend to living and parenting with more creativity.

For an idea of the territory we’ll cover this AP Month, imagine the following scene:

Your darling, amazing child twinkling from head to toe, bubbling and tickled pink at his accomplishment. Beaming in delight, he proudly and delightedly presents you with the most astounding masterpiece ever. It’s breathtaking. It could be mistaken for a Picasso.

You take in a riot of blazing, bold, delicious color and never-before-seen details — more remarkable details than any peer. And, sweetly, you see that it’s a family portrait. There you all are, each of you, lovingly smiling and holding hands. Everyone is so happy.

Of course this masterpiece is rendered as all masterpieces should be: in archival-quality, permanent colors and exquisite installation for optimal viewing pleasure. A pure marvel. (Scroll down for the punch line you know is coming…)

Right on the new wallpaper.

Your sweet one, most satisfied with this obvious masterpiece, is especially proud because he, ever so carefully and thoughtfully, abided by your frequent rule to only color “on the paper.” Note how skillfully the artist avoided marking on the wall that doesn’t have paper.

If it’s a good day, perhaps you’ll find yourself fully in the grip of Cognitive Dissonance — that utterly mixed state that floods us with questions: Do we share their pure joy, at least for a moment? Plunge instantly into anguish over the ruined wallpaper? Discipline the artist? All? None? In what order and magnitude? Of course, we’re all probably familiar with responses we’ve had that aren’t confused at all. Or very joyful.

Dramatic scenes like this unfold at a rapid clip in homes of young creatives everywhere — and every young one is, by definition, a creative in their own special way. As parents of these creatives (aka children), we’re repeatedly tasked to provide creative responses to great and amazing displays of creativity.

Contrary to popular belief, creativity isn’t inborn or reserved for da Vinci, Nobel Prize winners, etsy shop owners or the advertising industry. It’s undeniable that some individuals have a great deal more aptitude than most of us, but creativity is an everyday phenomenon related to flexibility, persistence, focus, idea germination, thinking in different ways, physical activity and motion, sleep, moods, stress, time pressure. These are all skills that we can learn and develop in supportive atmospheres. When we value and support these skills in ourselves and in our children, newer levels of creativity bloom. Traditionally creative pursuits are but a few of the most visible and expressive forms.

Whatever our rules about “muraling” at home, our responses, our children and our relationships can usually benefit when we’re in touch with our own creativity. This kind of creativity resides in us all, can be nurtured, facilitates our everyday experiences and impacts our sense of well-being. If it also inspires us to write concertos, what an amazing added bonus.

Dear Health Visitor, I Must Confess I Lied …

Posted by Louise, a mother living the United Kingdom. She blogs at mamabeanblog.blogspot.co.uk. “Health Visitors” in the UK health system are community nurses who provide routine developmental checks, care and support to newborns and their parents, including advice on feeding, sleeping and all aspects of newborn care.

Dear Health Visitor,

I must confess, I lied. I didn’t set out to be untruthful, but I felt like I had no other option at the time. I should obviously take full responsibility for my untruth; after all, I had the audacity to be a first-time mum with the sheer cheek to want the very best for my baby girl. You see, I didn’t actually leave my angel to cry. I didn’t really look past her gaze at nighttime to avoid eye contact. I didn’t even offer her a sip of water instead of my breast. She didn’t, in truth, actually sleep for those 8 hours that I told you about.

In fact, she has never slept for 8 hours in a row…not when you take into account all of the snuggling, smiles, little kisses and breastfeeds that naturally occur throughout our night. Yes, Health Visitor, I did say “our night”; my little girl and I sleep side-by-side, drifting in and out of our own special sleep dance, perfectly in tune, feeling warm, safe and happy. I guess that’s something else that I wasn’t exactly truthful about at the time. You can find more info about desert mobile medical.

You see, Health Visitor, I led you to believe that your advice, excuse me, your instructions, were right for us. I led you to believe that your dated and unsafe methods actually “worked”… if “success” is determined by the behavior of a child instead of the feelings. If only I had been honest from the start, perhaps the footprints that you came to leave in the next unsuspecting mother’s life would have been softer. Perhaps, just perhaps, you might have questioned your own methods and goals, seeking evidence-based, research-led data that would broaden and accelerate your understanding of the subject matter you preach daily. Or perhaps not.

For you and your team, my innocent baby was simply a tick in a box, but I didn’t actually ask for “help” if you remember.

It was your colleague who rang me at 10 weeks postpartum, when my iron levels were still so low after I had nearly died of a postpartum hemorrhage that I could easily have been admitted to hospital. “Are you getting out much? I haven’t seen you at the drop-in weight clinic, and 10 weeks is by far enough time to be back to normal.”

It was your colleague who told me at a breastfeeding “support” group at 4 months that any more than one night feed was nothing more than “pure manipulation” on my baby’s part. Funnily enough, there was no mention of growth spurts, sleep regressions, or baby brain maturity rendering my daughter physiologically incapable of “manipulation.”

It was your colleague who told me repeatedly, again at the breastfeeding support group, that my baby fed too frequently and to offer her water instead of the breast. Funnily enough, there was no check for tongue-tie, which was totally missed until 18 months. Or allergy, which was missed until a major type 1 reaction occurred on the introduction of solids. It seems that the ‘Health’ in ‘Health Visitor’ is there for no more than decoration.

It was your colleague who told me at my daughter’s 9-month check that children who aren’t put in their cots at 7 p.m. and left there without contact for the proceeding 12 hours will turn into “teenagers who sleep with their parents.”

But it was you, dear Health Visitor, who quietly watched, gently checked-in and slowly nodded. It was you who chip, chip, chipped away at my motherly instincts and confidence. If only I hadn’t answered truthfully in the postnatal depression test; if only my results hadn’t flagged me as borderline so that I was placed on monthly drop-ins for an “innocent chat.”

I was honest here, Health Visitor. I was telling the truth when I said I was happy, that I had never felt more content and fulfilled than when my darling daughter gazed lovingly into my eyes at the breast. I was being honest when I said that the only reason I scored highly on the “anxiety” section was because I couldn’t shake the memory of crashing during childbirth–the memory of my wonderful husband holding our baby with nothing but terror in his eyes while a team of doctors worked on me, as all the while the world grew fuzzy-white and I fought to stay awake. You see, Health Visitor, my “problem” wasn’t with being a mother, it was with the memory of almost NOT being a mother…of almost missing out on every single second of pure joy that my child brings me. It was with a slow, unapologetic nod and change of subject that you met this truth.

You are the expert after all. You know sleep deprivation when you see it. In fairness, you were quite right; I was tired, but the difference between you and I is that I don’t see tiredness as a bad thing. Being tired was a crucial part of my new mum experience. It allowed me to switch off the world outside and focus on the only thing that mattered: my baby.

It was you, Health Visitor, who instructed me on every single drop-in visit to leave my daughter to cry in her cot, alone, “for as long as it takes, even if she is sick.” It was you who instructed me on every single visit, to “keep it up for as many days or weeks as is necessary, and if you need to change the sheets to remove the vomit, don’t look her in the eye.” It was you who told me that “every mum has a breaking point.” You were determined to reach mine, weren’t you, dear Health Visitor?

I simply must confess to you that I lied. I did not follow your orders. I did not leave my daughter alone in her cot to cry and puke and learn helplessness. Instead, I cuddled, cradled, snuggled and breastfed my baby girl so that she can learn what it is to be human. Because isn’t that what we are missing in all of this? Isn’t it eye contact, innate communication, respect, kindness and love that define us as human? It is with nothing but pure love that I treat my daughter.

I see your instructions as nothing more than neglect, and it is because of this that I am sorry. I am sorry that I led you to believe that I had taken your advice; in explanation, I simply wanted your visits to stop. I am truly sorry to all of the other mums who had to endure your mantra. I am so very sorry to all of the other babies that had to endure the consequences of your orders. I hope that now, with hindsight and with my admission, you will understand that your role is not just a day job. You are on the front line, so to speak. You have the access to truly make a difference in the lives of hundreds of families. Let’s turn away from learned helplessness and perhaps in so doing you will learn helpfulness … we can but hope.

Sincerely,

Mama Bean

Respectful Discipline

As the mother of a very curious and interactive seven-month-old, I’m constantly having to redirect her correct some of her less-than-desirable behaviors. She’s so interested in her world and eager to interact with anyone and everyone who will give her the time of day. At our last pediatrician’s appointment, we were told that socially, she’s way ahead of their expectations. I’m not really surprised, considering she has highly social parents; she comes by it honestly. She loves talking to people and even gets her feelings hurt when someone enters the room without acknowledging her presence.

DSCN5852 — Arbor socializing with her new friend, Shelby.

We recently went out of town to visit friends and family and introduce her to a few people who still hadn’t had the chance to meet her. Her social nature really shined through while she met all of these new people. She gladly demonstrated her new “tricks” like giving hugs and singing. As she became more comfortable in her temporary environment, she would explore and find things that she could get into. Her favorite things, whether at home or a home away from home, are wires and cords. This means I’m always having to get up, redirect her, and find replacements. I’ve been told time and time again that she’ll stop it if I just swat her hand. While I can appreciate how that would work, I don’t want to start punitive discipline with my child and get in the habit of it all now. I’d much rather physically move her and tell her why she can’t do what it is she’s trying to do. It’s definitely more work than just a quick swat but I’m already seeing the benefits of it.

There’s the obvious benefit of not starting the bad habit of using physical force as a means of discipline. I’m getting myself in the habit of using my words to help teach her what is okay and what is not. This in turn is teaching her to understand words and respond appropriately. Arbor has been great about understanding the good “trigger words” that I’ve been using to help teach her. She doesn’t talk much yet but she really seems to have a great understanding of a lot of these words. Some of the ones I’ve been effectively using are

danger
unh-unh
gentle touch
owie

I’ve been finding that repetitive use of these trigger words usually work a lot better than when I get irritated and begin to raise my voice or simply move her from whatever it is that she’s into. It’s taken consistency, repetition and having my husband on board. It requires regular communication between the two of us about what it is I’m working on teaching her and with his support, we are gently disciplining our infant.

It’s really encouraging as a parent to see that even at this really young age, before she has become verbal, she’s responding well to verbal direction. I don’t have to resort to violent behavior. I don’t have to hit to teach. As a first time mom who has chosen to use AP principles and peaceful parenting techniques, I’ve been a bit skeptical of this whole non-violent parenting technique. Either I won’t be able to stick with it or I’ll have an unruly child who doesn’t listen to me. She’s only seven months old and is already proving me wrong. We’re learning together how to communicate with each other. She’s learned that I will respond to her when she shows me she wants or needs something and it has set the foundation for a trusting relationship between the two of us. Because I listen to her, she also listens to me. I am loving that we have a relationship built on mutual respect. If I didn’t believe it before, I definitely believe you can respect and be respected by an infant. We are establishing the framework for a loving relationship. It won’t be without its struggles but it is definitely reaffirming of the principles I have been learning about developing a healthy attachment with my daughter.

Epic Meltdown

Have you been there? I hope so, simply for my sake as I am in need of some mommy comforting. We had a meltdown of epic proportions this week, at the tire store, in public, with everyone watching. No, seriously, if only I could have harnessed that kind of energetic passion (to put it nicely) I would convert it to electricity and power my house for a year.

The story goes that I ran out of diapers for the 3-year old. I think, ‘great time to encourage her potty-training ready signs and just get out the pull ups.’ She refuses to use the pull-ups and doesn’t like the panties but has had 100% potty success today. The warning lights in my car for the past week can no longer be put on the back burner, and so the necessary tire appointment is approaching fast. Let me take you through it. Picture the tire store, quiet yet busy in the mid-week, mid-afternoon. In walks me with 3 young ladies ages 7,5, and 3. I am schlepping purse, snacks, books, drinks, toys, coloring crayons and coloring books, stickers, suckers, change of clothes, pull ups and smartphone (everything but the kitchen sink) in hand, in 3 huge bags, and we go in for new tires. It looks like we are moving into the lobby but we have one and half hours wait, not too bad.

I must have looked like a chicken with no head. I was hopping around there like flubber that was set free. Getting up to fix the chair, find the book, do the math, read the sign, go to the potty, kiss the boo-boo, fix the hair -it was exhausting. I look around the room in desperation, hoping that someone with throw me a bone, by that I mean a ‘its okay, I’ve been there, done that’ smile, but no takers. I laugh aloud as I see I have even thought to bring myself a book that I couldn’t possible read in this environment. My children are exhausting me but at least they are appropriately quiet.

The blissful moments of ‘appropriately quiet’ didn’t last long due to my three-year-old. Long story short, I almost left my dear, sweet youngest child at the tire store (kidding…. I think). Meltdown one happened after I asked her to pick up something off the floor. As three-year-olds do she made a mountain from a molehill, put her hands on hips and screams, “NO, I’m not going to do what you say!” It escalated fast. Tantrums 2 and 3 I am a little fuzzy about now, but number four I remember well. The random thoughts running through my head: (from another AP blogger) ‘how brave of her to express her feelings,’ how embarrassed I am that MY kid would act this way – mean I am an API leader, that tantrums are normal and actually healthy for the brain, if she pees on this carpet how will I clean it up?, why is my 5 year-old licking her hand?, when will the car get done? Do I have tequila at home for a margarita later? It IS five o’clock somewhere, how much is this costing me?, ’ just to name a few. I survived the day, WITH new tires on the car. *Whew!* Mission accomplished.

In relaying the grueling details to my husband that night he just swooped down into the conversation and gave me his benevolent perspective about why our darling youngest daughter was having these major meltdowns, “Maybe she is not ready for potty training…”

I looked at him with my bug eyes, “Oh, gee, ….”

We are back to diapers. Apparently people in the trenches can’t often see the whole battlefield, or remember the path to the goal. She is not ready for potty training and I will respect that. Period. I wish I had recognized it earlier but I am not perfect and the supermom cape really doesn’t exist.

As the day wrapped up and I looked at her in my arms, with a happy tear this time in my eye and saw a sweet, precious, sleeping face I was reminded of several parenting lessons:

How grateful I am and how necessary my husband is in child-rearing. After we left the tire place, I took her straight to dad’s office and got a breather, the both of us were able to calm down.
That no matter how good of a mother you are, this WILL happen to you eventually. Attachment parent or not.
Although I did have tears in my own eyes during this whole fiasco, I was proud I didn’t lose my cool or scream. I stuck with my philosophy of discipline, despite how it looked to the strangers there.
It is good to come home to a hubby and a glass of wine after a long day and be reminded that I really am a good mother, despite one bad experience.
I lived another day. They lived another day. It is a good day.

Okay, so number five did NOT occur to me at the time, but I am glad that one day is over. I am grateful I have some perspective and that I can now smile and really sit with my parenting education I was just given by my youngest child. I survived an epic meltdown and lived to mother another day.

Children Talking to Adults

My two and a half year old Jacob is very friendly. It could be because he’s my second child, and so he has benefited from my more relaxed parenting this time around as well as being doted on by his adoring older sister. It could be because he’s a Leo, the sign of nobility. It could be because I’ve never discouraged him from greeting friends and strangers alike. Or it could just be who he naturally is. But whatever the reason, Jacob takes it upon himself to personally greet every person he meets in his day-to-day life.

On the playground, for example, he often walks up to other children and introduces himself. It sounds something like, “Hi! I named Jacob!” His words are clear to me, but not everyone may understand what he’s saying or who he’s addressing. And so, often, other people ignore his efforts to strike up a conversation. I find it more than a little disheartening, quiet honestly, especially when the person ignoring him is another parent of a toddler. I can’t imagine that I would meet with the same reaction, if I walked up and introduced myself.

Luckily, Jacob is totally unfazed when people ignore him. He just introduces himself a few more times, until finally some notice is given. Or if that doesn’t happen, he moves on to the next person, and often meets with better results. It doesn’t occur to him, at his age, to wonder why someone isn’t paying attention to him. It doesn’t appear to lead him to doubt himself or question his place in the world.

Jacob and his big sister Hannah explore the park

But as I watch my son go out and try to make friends with limited success, I reflect on what it’s showing me about the way we view children in our society. The truth is that children are not accorded the same kind of respect as adults. We don’t feel that it’s necessary to give them our attention in the same way. We don’t offer them the same kind of space to express themselves, and we don’t value what they have to say. Sometimes, even if we’re parents ourselves. Sometimes, even if they’re our own children.

One of Attachment Parenting International’s guiding principles is responding to our children with sensitivity. For older children, this includes showing an interest in what they’re doing. I have to confess that I don’t always do this as well as I could. I’m not always the best at getting down and engaging my children on their level. And sometimes I don’t hear them myself, when they’re talking to me and my attention is elsewhere.

I’m constantly striving to improve, though. I’m working hard to respond sensitively, and to provide my children with a safe and supportive environment to explore. And so I stand back and watch as they strike up conversations with children and adults at the park. I let them navigate social interactions on their own as long as they’re safe and happy. And I hope that other people will respond to them with the same sensitivity that I strive to display for all children. Because, really, every child deserves that.

Have you ever had the experience of watching other adults ignore your child? What was that like for you? And how do you respond when it happens?