To anyone standing nearby, it probably looked like a little girl throwing a tantrum because she couldn’t get exactly what she wanted.

But that’s not what I saw.

In fact, I think this small moment perfectly captures one of the biggest misunderstandings about autistic children with a PDA profile.

It wasn’t about the waffle cone.

It was about pressure.

What happened

We were walking around central London and decided to stop for an ice cream.

Ruby always chooses the same type of cone. Not a waffle cone, the standard wafer cone. It’s softer, it’s familiar, and it’s become part of the experience she expects.

That’s important.

Before we’d even walked into the shop, Ruby already had an internal demand.

She wasn’t demanding anything from me.

She had simply built an expectation in her own mind about how this experience was going to unfold.

She would order her usual cone.

She would get her usual cone.

Everything was predictable.

When we reached the counter, the assistant apologised and explained they only had two options left:

A waffle cone.

Or a cup.

The change happened in a sentence.

Ruby burst into tears almost immediately.

To someone watching, it looked like she was crying over an ice cream cone.

But I don’t think that’s what was happening at all.

Looking beyond the behaviour

As parents, it’s very easy to focus on what we can see.

The crying, shouting, refusal…the behaviour.

But behaviour is often the final chapter of a story that started much earlier.

Ruby wasn’t simply reacting to the lack of a wafer cone.

She was reacting to an internal demand that had suddenly become impossible to fulfil.

The experience she’d already prepared herself for disappeared in an instant.

That’s a very different way of looking at the situation.

The mistake many of us make

Now imagine I had responded with the sort of phrases most of us have probably used before.

“Come on.”

“People are waiting.”

“Just pick one.”

“Hurry up.”

I’d probably be saying those things with good intentions.

I’d be trying to solve the problem.

But from Ruby’s perspective, something else would be happening.

She already has the stress of her internal demand not being met.

Now I’ve added another layer.

An external demand.

Instead of helping her cope with one source of stress, I’ve asked her to cope with two.

The internal demand.

And my external demand.

We’ve doubled the pressure.

That’s why these moments often escalate.

Not because the child is choosing to make life difficult.

But because their nervous system is carrying more than it can manage.

Success doesn’t always look like success

I didn’t try to persuade Ruby or explain why the shop had run out.

I didn’t tell her people were waiting, I stopped, put my arms around her.

I reassured her. She was crying, it was difficult…at one point I made the mistake of trying to solve the problem with a “look at this other cone !”

Realising that wasn’t helping, I stepped with Ruby outside.

Did everything suddenly become okay?

No.

She still cried.

She still didn’t immediately get her ice cream. I had to, on purpose tell myself…”don’t try to stop the crying”….I kept calm, stroking her back saying “it’s ok Ruby”.

I achieved something.

I didn’t make the situation worse.

Sometimes, as parents, we judge ourselves by whether the child eventually did the thing.

Did they eat the ice cream?

Did they brush their teeth?

Did they leave the park?

But perhaps that’s the wrong measure.

Perhaps success is sometimes much smaller.

Perhaps success is protecting the relationship during a difficult moment.

Respond first. Restore later.

This incident has become another reminder of something I’ve been thinking about while building Project Ruby.

Every difficult moment has two phases.

The first is Respond.

This is the moment when emotions are high.

When the child is overwhelmed.

When the nervous system is doing its best just to cope.

This is not the moment for teaching.

It’s the moment for reducing pressure.

For staying calm.

For using low demand language.

For helping your child feel safe.

Then comes the second phase.

Restore.

Not five minutes later.

Not while everyone’s still upset.

Maybe later that evening.

Maybe the next day.

This is when we become curious together.

Ruby loves drawing.

So perhaps we draw an ice cream shop.

Maybe someone asks for a wafer cone.

Maybe the shopkeeper only has waffle cones.

“What could the shopkeeper say?”

“What could the child do?”

We’re not testing her.

We’re not correcting her.

We’re exploring together.

The goal isn’t compliance.

The goal is helping her gradually build flexibility when her brain is calm enough to learn.

A different question

For years, I think many of us have asked the same question.

“How do I get my child to do the thing?”

I’m beginning to wonder if there’s a better question.

“How do I reduce enough pressure that my child is actually able to cope?”

That small shift changes everything.

It changes how we speak.

It changes what we expect.

It changes how we measure success.

And perhaps most importantly, it changes how our children experience us in their hardest moments.

This way of thinking sits at the heart of Project Ruby.

Not because it guarantees every situation will end happily.

Sometimes the child still won’t get the ice cream.

Sometimes they’ll still leave upset.

But if we can avoid adding unnecessary pressure in the moment, and return later with curiosity instead of correction, we give our children something much more valuable than compliance.

We give them safety.

And from safety, learning has a chance to grow.

Speaking of life, today’s drama with my PDA daughter Ruby began early in the park when she was on the swings, being pushed by her mum for some time. Her brother was waiting for a turn. Mum stopped pushing Ruby and moved to her brother instead. Ruby wanted to keep being pushed and, by her mum’s account, wanted more turns than Mikael was getting.

Like most parents you’d hear “I need to push your brother as well not just you Ruby “ & before you know it, Ruby kicked off. Things escalated very quickly.

On the ground, curling up and then kicking, and eventually shouting. Mum went over, held her hand, and tried to console her, this didn’t stop the reaction. Mum then tried distraction, pointing out things like a truck or mentioning ice cream, this had mixed results. When that didn’t fully work, Mum got annoyed and dropped the threat :”If you don’t get up, you won’t go horse riding later !’. Ruby stopped crying. Snapping out of her anger.

Was This a Success?

Ruby stopped crying. Mum was no longer stressed out. On the surface, it looks yes.

Whether that counts as a success depends on what you’re measuring. If the measure is “did the crying stop, did Mum get some relief, did they leave the park without things getting worse”m, yes, on that measure, it worked. In the moment, with an exhausted parent and a distressed child in public, getting to a stop is a real and understandable win.

But that’s a different question from whether Ruby got what she actually needed. She stopped crying because she didn’t want to lose out on going horse riding, not because the original problem, not getting pushed as much as she wanted, was resolved, and not because she found her own way to settle. The thing that was bothering her didn’t go away. A bigger, more pressing concern simply took over and pushed it aside.

That matters, because it means the “success” was really about stopping the visible behaviour, not about Ruby building any capacity to handle the original disappointment. Next time she doesn’t get pushed as much as she wants, she hasn’t practised tolerating that, she’s learned that if she holds out, a consequence will eventually be introduced that makes her stop.

So: it was a success for the moment Mum was in. It wasn’t a success for the thing this is really about, Ruby’s own ability to sit with not getting what she wants. Both things can be true at once, and that’s the whole point. Short term relief and long term skill building aren’t the same thing, and sometimes the tool that gets you the first one works against the second.

Sometimes you're stressed and just need to get through the moment, and that doesn't help the child in the long run. Sometimes you've got the headspace and the skill to slow things down and work with your child so she can learn how to work through these moments herself. The goal isn't to be perfect, for us… it's just to do things a little better next time, where humanly possible.

What can we have done better? How could have Ruby brought along in this situation without the “no horses later” threat? That’s the next blog for tomorrow.

Until then!

Jem

Tiktok @jemspeakslife

If you’d prefer to listen to this blog, please go to my YouTube here:

listen to the blog

Don’t forget to like and subscribe! It really does help the reach of the content to get in front of the right mums and dads who need to know they aren’t alone.

So, Morning Storms

Does anyone else wonder why autistic children with demand avoidance wake up angry, kicking, screaming, whining? What happened overnight?

I used to say to my wife, and still do, how many times can our child wake up from a nightmare?
Because honestly, that seems like the only rational explanation sometimes.

And today was no exception. Unfortunately.
It is stressful. Really really stressful. Before I have even opened my eyes, I hear shouting. Something is already happening.
That is how I woke up. No coffee. No breakfast. No nothing. Just straight into a war zone.

What is Going On

What is happening in the brains of our demand avoidant children?

I am not an expert. I am just sharing what I have observed over the past few years.
But I can tell you this. My daughter is waking up stressed out

And I do not get it. Why would she?
She is in a warm bed, snuggled next to her mum. Safe. Loved. There is no obvious threat.

So what is the crisis?

The Elastic Band Metaphor

My thinking has evolved. So has the way I manage mornings. It does not mean I have fixed it but it has helped stop things from getting worse.

Here is a metaphor I use. Elastic band

Ruby’s elastic band is already stretched most mornings. Tight and tense.
It does not take much to flick it. Just a little trigger and boing off she goes.

Cortisol and Waking Up

Let us start with cortisol. The stress hormone.
Everyone produces it. Neurotypical. Neurodivergent. All of us.
It spikes in the morning as part of what is called the Cortisol Awakening Response
It is nature’s nudge to get us moving. Time to go

For most people it helps us feel alert. It gets the engine running.

But for PDA which stands for Pathological Demand Avoidance brains
Cortisol does not feel like alertness. It feels like danger

That same spike gets interpreted differently.
You might wake up and think. Time to feed the cats or I have got to get to work.
But in my daughter’s brain it might be

• Why is no one in the room

• Why is Mum hugging one of the other kids

• Something is wrong

• I am not safe

It is not the hormone itself. It is the meaning her brain attaches to the physical sensation.

She wakes up already in fight or flight. And as mums and dads we do not know why. And neither does she.

Same Trigger Different Reaction

Cortisol is like the engine starting for most of us.
For Ruby it is like a fire alarm

Same trigger. Completely different response.

As parents we need to understand this.
Because the more we understand the more desire we have to slow things down, regulate ourselves and find ways to help them regulate.

Our children may be interpreting safety signals as stress signals

Is This Proven

Well here is what I have found

There are no large scale studies specifically on PDA and cortisol. PDA is still not well understood.
You do not get a standalone PDA diagnosis. It is usually noted as an autism diagnosis with a demand avoidance profile.

But studies do show that many autistic children have

• Elevated baseline cortisol

• Atypical cortisol rhythms meaning that usual daily drop off does not happen the same way

There is also research into school stress, transitions and how cortisol affects behaviour and functioning in autistic children.

Experts like Dr Mona Delahooke and Dr Ross Greene describe children like ours as having nervous systems stuck in high alert. Like a switch that is permanently flipped to fight or flight mode even when there is no real threat.

So while cortisol is not the full story, it is a very big clue.

Back to Ruby. Back to the Storm

What do we actually do in the eye of the storm.

First rule. Do not correct

I Do not say:

• Stop it

• Why are you always like this

• Can you not just wake up happy

• Look at your siblings

We used to say those things and it only made things worse.

I keep coming back to the quote I have on my wall

A dysregulated adult cannot help a dysregulated child

So I have conversations with myself before bed. I do my journaling (most days).
I tell myself. Be ready to breathe in the morning

Don’t loose your shit.

When the alarm bell rings and Ruby is upset, I focus on regulating myself first.

Strategy Mode

• Lower your voice. I speak softly and get to her level

• Mirror calm. I want her to feel the calm I am trying to create. It does not always work but it never makes it worse

• Do not pull her out of bed. That sense of urgency makes things escalate quickly.

• Urgency is the enemy of demand avoidance

Get Somatic

Sometimes gentle physical touch helps. Stroking her arm, hair or back
Not when she is in full meltdown mode but when she is just irritated, it can help ground her

Offer Choices

Redirect with choices instead of commands

This morning my wife asked

Do you want cereal or toast

It sounds simple but it shifts her thinking

Her eyes move, she processes the question and she chooses
Suddenly she is out of emotional reactivity and into decision making mode

Children with demand avoidance need control so we give options, not instructions

Examples

• Would you like milk upstairs or downstairs

• Do you want to feed the cats or pour your cereal

Space and Validation

Sometimes the best thing to say is

It is okay. I can see you are upset. You have got space here. Big bed just for you

The message behind the words is

You are not being rushed. I am not making this a transaction

After the Storm

Once the storm has passed we sometimes have restorative conversations

I have asked Ruby things like

If your toy hippo wanted to wake up happy, what would he need

She gives me little clues

• Mum nearby

• Not too hot, that is why we got air conditioning for her room

We also roleplay. I pretend to wake up grumpy. Ruby then plays the caring one

“Daddy you are safe. You just need a cuddle”

It is a work in progress but as she gets older her self awareness grows.

These reflective conversations are becoming more valuable

Final Thoughts

There is no silver bullet

It is like taking a photo of the ocean. Take one a second later and none of the waves are in the same place, our children are growing, changing, things don’t stay in one place.

But I want one thing to remain consistent and be the calm she needs…and of course, it’s impossible to be perfect. But I persist.

Thank you for reading. Wishing you a peaceful day ahead

Thanks for reading My Ruby Cube - Helping my daughter with Demand Avoidance! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

You can read the blog or listen to the podcast below:

Why does your autistic child struggle so much with rejection?

I'm talking specifically about a child with demand avoidance.

If you're coming from TikTok—great to see you here—you might want to skip the first five minutes of this video if it feels repetitive. Fast-forward to where I share strategies on how to help your child with demand avoidance handle rejection, both in the moment and moving forward.

If you haven’t seen the TikTok video, let’s start from the top.

Rejection is incredibly tough for a child with demand avoidance. And let’s be honest—you can’t shield them from it. Rejection is part of life. Sometimes kids won’t want to be friends. Sometimes your child gets picked last in the park. These things happen. They hurt neurotypical kids, and they definitely hurt demand avoidant children. But the pain runs deeper because their brains are wired differently.

When we talk about demand avoidance—sometimes called Pathological Demand Avoidance (PDA)—we’re talking about an overactive stress response. When these children face stress, whether social (“You can’t play with us”) or structured (“You didn’t get picked”), their brain doesn’t just register disappointment. It sees a threat.

Why is that important? Because children with demand avoidance rely heavily on control to feel safe. They often plan and predict how situations will go—sometimes without realizing it. So when something unexpected happens, like being left out or told no, it’s not just upsetting—it feels like losing control. And that triggers panic.

Their brain is trying to protect them. What we see on the outside—meltdowns, anger, shutdowns, or even indifference—is often a child who feels overwhelmed and vulnerable.

Helping my daughter Ruby through rejection in the park recently gave me a lot to reflect on. She had a big reaction to something small. She plays with another homeschooled girl regularly. But this time, after the other girl said no to playing a game Ruby had imagined, Ruby swore and said, “I don’t like that girl.”

When Ruby calmed down, it became clear: she wasn’t just upset about a disagreement. She felt rejected. Her brain had already imagined the game and how it would go. When it didn’t happen that way, she lost her sense of control—and that triggered her stress response.

So what can we do in that moment?

Step 1: Validate feelings without fixing.
When Ruby swore and said she didn’t like the girl, I didn’t correct her. I said, “It looks like that really upset you. I know it’s hard when things don’t go the way we wanted.”
I’m not agreeing with the swearing—but I’m validating her experience. This helps calm her nervous system and sends the message: you’re safe, and I get it.

Step 2: Stay close and calm.
Instead of correcting or explaining, I sat with her quietly. I didn’t try to talk her out of her feelings. I kept my voice slow and my energy steady. Co-regulation comes first—before any discussion about language or behavior.

Step 3: Gently reframe the story later.
Not in the moment—but later, when things are calm. As we walked home with some chips (as you do), I said, “Sometimes when I wanted people to play with me at school and they didn’t, it didn’t mean they didn’t like me. It just meant they couldn’t play right then.”
I wanted her to understand that not getting your way doesn’t always mean rejection. Timing is everything with a demand avoidant child.

Step 4: Build rejection resilience with low-stakes games.
At home, we play games like Hungry Hungry Hippos, where Ruby can win or lose. We keep the stakes light and name the feelings: “That’s frustrating. Want to try again or take a break?”
Think of it like a muscle. You’re helping them manage disappointment without panic—modeling how to lose with humor and calm.

Step 5: Use metaphors and stories.
Kids like Ruby often respond better to pictures than explanations. I might say, “Yeah, you didn’t get what you wanted—just like when it rained and we had to stay inside. But after the rain, there’s a rainbow.”
Stories and analogies help her process experiences on her own terms.

Step 6: Offer autonomy in the repair.
Give them power back. I ask, “What would help you right now? A cuddle, a snack, quiet time, stomping like a dinosaur?”
This gives her the sense of control she needs. It’s about helping her feel safe and seen—not fixing everything immediately.

Remember, it’s not about fixing the moment. It’s about teaching their brain that these moments—however big they feel—are survivable.

These small practices—validating feelings, co-regulating, low-stakes games—have helped Ruby. Over time, we’re helping build our kids build emotional strength and resilience.

1.

Shaming: “Stop being rude to Mikael. He doesn’t deserve that.”
Gentle Alternative: “Sounds like you’re upset with Mikael. You can tell me what’s going on—but we speak kindly, even when we’re mad.”

2.

Shaming: “Why do you always have to make everything about you?”
Gentle Alternative: “It feels really important to you right now, doesn’t it? Let’s find a way for everyone to feel heard.”

3.

Shaming: “There’s no excuse for being mean. You need to fix your attitude.”
Gentle Alternative: “I see you’re having a hard time. Let’s take a break and figure out what you need, without hurting anyone.”

4.

Shaming: “What’s wrong with you? Why would you say something like that?”
Gentle Alternative: “That sounded like you were feeling really angry. Let’s talk about what happened in a way that helps me understand.”

5.

Shaming: “You’re being ridiculous. He didn’t do anything to you.”
Gentle Alternative: “It seems like something didn’t feel right to you. Let’s figure it out together, without blaming your brother.”

6.

Shaming: “You can’t act like this every time something doesn’t go your way.”
Gentle Alternative: “It’s okay to be upset when things don’t go how you hoped. Let’s find a better way to handle that frustration.”

7.

Shaming: “There’s no reason to talk like that. Use your words properly or don’t speak at all.”
Gentle Alternative: “I want to hear what you have to say. Let’s find words that help people listen, not shut down.”

8.

Shaming: “Enough! You always ruin things when we’re having fun.”
Gentle Alternative: “It looks like this part of the day feels hard for you. We can work it out without hurting the fun for everyone.”

9.

Shaming: “I don’t want to hear it if you’re going to be nasty.”
Gentle Alternative: “You can tell me anything—even when it’s hard—as long as we do it with respect.”

10.

Shaming: “If you keep talking like that, no one will want to be around you.”
Gentle Alternative: “We all want to feel safe around each other. Let’s take a moment and try again with kind words.”

To read today’s podcast, see below.

Today, we're talking about something a lot of parents face: what do you do with your autistic child who's demand avoidant and won’t say "please" or "thank you"?

Whether you're at the sweet shop, a restaurant, or just at home and someone hands them something, you naturally want your child to learn manners. We're taught that saying "please" and "thank you" is just common courtesy.

But here's the thing—I'm not worried about what people think of my child. She's still small, just four, almost five. What matters more is that she's growing up, and I want to strike the right balance between teaching manners in a way that helps her function in society and doing it without causing unnecessary trauma.

What I need to keep remembering—and I suggest this to parents as well—is that your child is flying their own plane. It's not your plane. That brain is theirs. You're the co-pilot, not the pilot. And if you keep trying to grab the steering wheel, meaning if you start making direct demands, you’ll likely just increase their anxiety—and it’ll backfire.

We’ve got to remember the point of all of this. Respect your child’s autonomy. It’s their plane. We reduce anxiety by minimizing direct demands and encouraging natural habits through creative engagement.

Yes, it’s tiring to be creative even when you’re already exhausted. But this is what our kids need—they need us to try something a little different, a little more thoughtful.

So how do we do that? You might’ve come over from TikTok where I’ve shared a few strategies. Let’s walk through them:

1. The Team Game Make saying "thank you" a shared team activity in the house. For example, I’ll say, "Alright, we’re a team—I'll say thanks, and you do a secret thumbs up." This gives my daughter options. It creates connection without pressure. She may not say the words, but a little thumb up? That’s a win. I’ll take that.

2. Role Reversal Bring in humour. Give your child a playful sense of authority. I’ll say, "Who wants to be my boss today?" Ruby always jumps at the chance. I tell her, "Remind me to say thank you at the till because I always forget." When we’re at the shop, I’ll whisper, "Does anyone know what I need to say?" This gives her a sense of control. Sometimes she joins in and says thank you herself. It doesn’t always work, but it’s part of the process.

3. The Invisible Reward Game Introduce imagination. Every time someone says thank you, we pretend to collect an imaginary star or gold coin. See who can collect the most. It’s just a fun, imaginative way to play with the idea of gratitude. Because demand avoidant children do feel grateful—they just might struggle with the pressure of having to say it.

4. Story and Secret Mission Style Frame it as an adventure. I’ll say, "We’re leaving the house today on a secret mission to be kind to people." There are lots of people working hard for us—let’s thank them. One day, we left the house, and the bin men were collecting outside. I heard a little voice behind me: "Thank you." That was Ruby. That’s what this strategy does—it turns thanking into an adventure, not a demand.

5. Visual cues / Silent Signals Sometimes saying thank you feels too hard. So instead, we create a visual signal—a peace sign or a secret wave. Most people won’t even notice, but it’s her way of showing recognition and gratitude. I’ve seen her do a tiny thumbs up when someone brings dessert. It’s so cute—and more importantly, it’s hers. It’s gentle social learning on her terms.

These are strategies—not guarantees. They won’t always work. But that’s okay.

What matters most is supporting our kids, helping them feel like they’re in control, and collaborating with them on how to express themselves.

Don’t expect to get it right every day. You’re not going to be a 10 out of 10 parent all the time. Take the pressure off. As long as you’re reflecting and learning, you’re doing the right thing.

Practice doesn’t make perfect—but it does make better.

Have a good day.

Explicit demands are the obvious ones, such as "brush your teeth," "put your shoes on," or "say thank you." In these cases, the child clearly understands that they are being asked to do something. On the other hand, implicit demands are more subtle—they create an unspoken pressure. These demands are built into situations, stemming from routines or social rules like "everyone else seems to be doing it." They can be just as triggering, and sometimes even more so, for a demand-avoidant child.

That brings me to the birthday situation. I once took Ruby to her birthday party. The cake came out, the candles were lit, and everyone was singing "Happy Birthday." However, there was this quiet, invisible expectation: join in, clap, smile, be part of the moment—to be normal. But no one said it out loud. For Ruby, who is demand avoidant, this moment can feel intensely pressured. Suddenly, she becomes acutely aware that everyone is watching her, and the pressure to conform is overwhelming, triggering her nervous system to say, "Nope, too much." As a parent, all I could see were the side effects: she might call under the table, freeze, start doing something unexpected, or even disappear to another room. Then I would hear my parents say, "Why is she being difficult? Why can't she be normal like everybody else?"

So, what can you do to help?

One effective strategy is to prepare your child beforehand and let them know what to expect. I explain to Ruby that at birthdays, people will be singing "Happy Birthday." I tell her that it might be a bit loud and that she doesn't have to sing if she doesn’t want to—she can simply listen or stand with me. This way, I remove the element of surprise and give her a choice while reassuring her that I have her back.

The second strategy is to provide an exit plan.

If the environment feels overwhelming, I instruct Ruby to give me a signal—a wave, a nose scratch, or anything that feels right to her—to let me know she needs a break. Having control over when and how she participates significantly lowers the emotional pressure, making the situation much more manageable.

Third, it's important to normalize the experience afterwards.

After the party, I make sure to check in with Ruby by asking how the event felt. I acknowledge her efforts, complimenting her smart choices if she found ways to cope—like getting away from the noise—without chastising her for not participating in a typical manner. This practice reinforces trust and emotional safety while avoiding any sense of shame.

I always remind fellow parents that you will get it wrong sometimes—I've been there myself. What may seem like your child being difficult or refusing to join in is often their way of protecting themselves from overwhelming pressure. Not every demand comes in the form of direct words; sometimes, the loudest pressure is the one that's never spoken. By understanding these implicit societal demands or norms, we can better support our children in feeling safe, seen, and in control.

All the best.

To read today’s podcast:

"Why did you swear at that boy, Ruby? Why?"

That’s how I confronted my small daughter—who lives with demand avoidance.
And guess what she said to me?

“Because I wanted to.”

My first thought?
What a brat.
This child is out of control. She needs to be disciplined.

That’s what I was thinking… but nothing could be further from the truth.

This child was not being a brat. This child was struggling—with demand avoidance.
It wasn’t disrespect. It was a self-protective response to a demand I was placing on her. She felt like she was losing control.

Why “Why?” Feels Like a Threat

Inside the mind of a demand-avoidant child, the question “Why did you do that?” feels like pressure. Even when you're calm, it can feel confrontational or accusatory.

So what do you get back?
A shutdown.
A meltdown.
Or a circular response—like the one I usually get:
“Because I wanted to.”

What I Do Differently Now

So now, when she smacks or swears at another child at a birthday party, I don’t ask “why.”
Instead, I reflect indirectly.

I might say:

“Sometimes people hit when they feel really overwhelmed.”

Or gently ask in the car:
“Do you think that might’ve been happening for someone?”
“I wonder what goes through someone’s mind when they smack another child.”

I’m not here for an interrogation.
I’m here for a joint exploration.

The Tools I Use

• I tell stories or use parallel examples to explore things safely at a distance.

• I model reflective thinking:

“I remember being at a party and feeling really cross. I nearly said something I regretted. I had to walk away and take a breath.”

• I separate the behaviour from the child.

“You’re not a bad person. You had a hard moment.”

• I use “next time” language:

“Next time, what might help if things feel a bit too much?”
“Should we try a secret signal if you need help?”

• I give space before the talk. I might say:

“We’ll talk later, not now. You’re safe. We’ll figure it out together.”

• I let her process creatively—with drawings, stories, or roleplay. That way, she’s not cornered by words. She’s exploring through play.

My Role as a Parent

I’m not the judge.
I’m not the controller.
I’m her co-regulator.

That means I help her regulate when she can’t do it alone.