Does this sound familiar? (read with a tone of frustration and blame)
- Don’t do that! You know you’re not supposed to….
- What do I have to do to get you to listen to me?
- Stop hitting. Cut it out.
- How many times do I have to tell you?!
- Quiet down, you’re just too much!
Imagine being the child on the receiving end of this. What happens to you when you hear “Why can’t you just listen?!”
Do you tense up, look away, run off, shut down? Where does your focus go?
As a child, depending on your temperament and how you have learned to avoid trouble, you choose a defense mechanism that keeps you safe. When you hear that familiar tone of frustration in the adults around you, you immediately hide behind your wall—your defense of choice. This could be yelling, crying, avoidance, laughing, people pleasing, becoming invisible, or anything else that shifts attention away from you.
Children don’t focus on the effects of their behavior when called out; they focus on themselves and strategize how to keep from getting Read more…











Your three-year-old throws herself on the ground at the playground right as you try to leave. Your seven-year-old has a complete meltdown at a birthday party, in front of every parent you know. Your teen yells quite loudly in the restaurant, “Would you just leave me alone. You don’t know anything!”
Most of us believe we see our children clearly. We know their faces, their moods, the particular way they go quiet when something is wrong. We show up. We ask questions. We pay attention. And still, we can look right at them and miss them entirely.
There is a common question that we get in our work in Connective Parenting all the time. “Can Connective Parenting work with difficult or aggressive kids?” Parents of kids who hit, explode, shut down, or cycle through meltdowns on a daily basis often arrive at Connective Parenting with one burning question: “Does this actually work for kids like mine?” The answer is yes. 


Parenting has a way of touching places inside us we thought had long since healed over. Sometimes it brings joy, sometimes tenderness—and sometimes it brushes against old wounds we haven’t dared revisit. Lately, I’ve been sitting with one of those moments. My fifteen-year-old is moving through a stormy season: tears, defiance, pulling away from friends, and slipping into behaviors that seem reckless or self-sabotaging. None of it is extreme, but it’s enough to keep me up at night. And what makes it harder is that it echoes someone else from my past… my sister.