One shoe fits all?

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Limits are needed to protect a child from harm and to promote autonomy. A primary theme of healthy parent child relationships is the transfer of control from the parent to the child. We want our children to learn to soothe themselves when they are upset, control behaviors that are potentially harmful to themselves or others, and to become self-directed rather than reliant upon outside sources of motivation.

Setting Developmentally Appropriate Limits

How do we set boundaries (or limits) when every child is temperamentally different and develops at his or own pace? Sounds like a frustratingly difficult level of complexity, doesn’t it? And when there are multiple children involved, what system could possibly be right for all?

Instead of trying to figure out what limits an adventuresome six-year-old or a demanding sixteen-year-old should have, think in terms of the basic themes that can guide you. Limits exist for two important purposes: insuring safety and promoting growth.

It is easy to set limits that assure safety if we are not concerned about growth. In some circumstances, safety is the only concern. When the tornado siren sounds, everyone belongs in the basement with flashlight, blanket, radio, food and water. When driving, seatbelts are fastened, and no alcohol, drugs, or phones are allowed. But when can a child have her training wheels off, leave the yard, cross the street, or stay out beyond 10pm?

The growth we hope to promote is the development is autonomy – self-directed, self-controlled, and emotionally self-regulated.  We want our children to learn to soothe themselves when they are upset, control behaviors that are potentially harmful to themselves or others, and to become self-directed rather than reliant upon outside sources of motivation.

Our use of limits needs to take into consideration the extent a child can self regulate. A toddler who cannot negotiate stairs needs a fence at either end or a spotter. These are removed as she demonstrates mastery on the stairs and a healthy respect for falling.

Remember the Zone of Proximal Development? (See Goldilocks is in the “Zone” – Where We Learn Best ) That concept applies to limit setting. In areas where a child can self regulate, no external limits are necessary. When the challenges of a situation would overwhelm a child’s abilities, limits are needed. The zone between these two points is where limits can be useful in promoting growth.

All children are born curious and possess an inborn drive toward autonomy. Children want to achieve mastery and be able to control their environments (and not let the environment control them). Children have a drive to crawl, walk and climb. Where they do their crawling, walking and climbing is sometimes an issue of safety. But if they wish to have a greater range for crawling, walking and climbing, they need to demonstrate their ability to do it safely.

Remember the Magic Formula for motivation: Investment = (I want) x (I can)? Many children, especially young ones, listen to the (I want) and are off and running. They are motivated to develop the (I can) part, but are often unable to be objective about the quality or reliability of the (I can) part.

Limits are necessary when the (I can) is not fully developed. Yet these limits need to be dynamic so that the child knows that developing the (I can) means a pulling back of the limits. Limits promote healthy growth when they are perceived as (show me you can) rather than (you can’t), thus supporting the (I want) x (I can) formula that works so well.

Elsewhere, I discuss the problems of children who are overly timid or avoidant, who self-limit, because of fears of getting hurt, losing approval, or failing. For these children, limit setting takes on a completely different role. For those who are avoiding, the parent may need to gently set limits on the behavior used to avoid important work that needs to be done. Or the parent may need to inquire about the (missing) curiosity and ambition. For the timid, cautious, or shy child, the parent may need to provide safe support for engagement (ala ZPD scaffolding) that is gradually withdrawn, as the child feels more competent and confident.

When the engines of curiosity, ambition, and autonomy are at work, limits are useful standards for the child to push against to develop and demonstrate mastery. The precocious four-year-old child who thinks she is ready for the training wheels to come off can assert herself by asking for an audition to show she is ready. When her dad cannot keep up with her to support her seat, maybe she is ready for the wheels to come off. When the child can swim two laps of the pool and can tread water for 10 minutes, he has shown he is ready to swim in the deep end of the pool and use the diving board. When the child can get herself up for school on her own every morning for two weeks, she has shown she is ready for a half hour later bedtime. In each of these examples, the child is motivated for the parent’s limits to be relaxed and that occurs by virtue of the child’s demonstration of self-regulation. In these cases, the drive for autonomy and the wish to push back the limits on that autonomy provide the engine for development.

This form of limits, where the child understands that they are subject to change by virtue of their demonstrated mastery (or responsibility) is completely different from a system where rules or limits are arbitrary and rigid. For instance, when rules exist, “because I said so” or “because you are not old enough”, children either lose the drive to become competent and autonomous, or they shift their efforts into evading the limits through secrecy and deception. In a healthy family relationship, the parent is able to explain the need for the limit (for safety) and the child understands the competence he or she must demonstrate to alter that limit. It is a transparent and dynamic process. The parent and child may not agree on what constitutes readiness, but all parties should be able to understand and explain the reasoning of the other. In other words, a parent can be understanding and empathic and still say, “no”. A child can be disappointed, but know that the parent understands why they think and feel the way they do.

Here are a couple of examples:

Party Girl?

“Dad, you can trust me to not drink at that party”, explains his fifteen-year-old daughter.

“I do trust you, kiddo. I just don’t trust some of the people who will be there who have been drinking”, responds her father.

“You mean I can never be around people who are drinking?”

“Explain to me how you will be safe. Plus, am I correct in believing the police hand out tickets to everyone who is underage at a party with alcohol?”

This young lady has her work cut out for her. But she is not hearing “no, because I said so”. She is hearing, “I need to know you will be safe” and “you cannot break the law”. She will have to do some planning and brainstorming with her friends in terms of safety, openness, adult supervision, and setting. But she will figure something out, because she knows her father is strict but fair and she has earned his trust through a process of solving problems by showing she has outgrown limits instead of trying to evade them.

My Very Own Dog?

“Mom, I really want a dog. I’ll take care of him. I promise,” pleads Timmy.

“I don’t know. That is a huge responsibility and the dog can really suffer if he isn’t fed and walked,” his mother reminds him.

“Jamie has a dog and I’m the same age he is,” as Timmy points next door.

“Yeah, and who is it I see every morning walking Jamie’s dog?” his mother chuckles, trying hard not to sound too cynical.

“Jamie’s father does. Oops. Bad example, eh? Can we rent a dog for a week so I can show you?” brainstorms Timmy.

“Rented dogs can’t suffer?”

“You know what I mean. Let me prove I’m ready.”

“How would you do that?” his mother says, looking more serious now.

“I can clean my room every week and make my bed every day,” replies Timmy, knowing what seems to matter to his mother most mornings.

“That would be nice to see. What does that have to do with taking care of a dog?”

“I could fix my own breakfast and take you for a walk every day,” answers Timmy, starting to get the idea he has to show her he can take care of the dog.

“That would be nice, but I still don’t see how that proves you are ready for a dog.”

“Come on Mom. How can I show you?”

“I have an idea. Get Sparky down from the shelf and you can pretend he is a real dog for two weeks,” recalling Timmy’s attachment to his old stuffed dog.

“He is a real dog, Mom.”

“Huh?”

“I still talk to him. He just doesn’t answer back like he used to.” Timmy remembers that is mother used to compare his relationship to Sparky to the one between Calvin and Hobbes, their favorite reading at bedtime.

“Take care of Sparky for two weeks like you would a really real dog.”

“Like with a really real leash, dog dish and pooper-scooper?”

“Yeah. Let’s make a schedule for feeding and walking Sparky and put it up in the kitchen.”

“Are we going to buy Sparky real food, or just feed him table scraps?”

“How about YOU feed him blue Lego’s in the morning and red Lego’s at dinnertime?”

“And I’ll scoop yellow Lego’s on our walks?”

“That’s more information than I need.”

“How often do I need to walk Sparky?”

“Call Grandpa and ask him how often he takes Buster out.”

“Hey, I just thought of how I can prove I’m ready. Next time Nana and Grandpa go away, I can take care of Buster.”

“If you are reliable with the Sparky for two weeks, you can ask Grandpa.”

Just because a child is nine years old does not mean he is ready for “nine-year-old” privileges and responsibilities. Those should come by virtue of demonstrated mastery, on developmental time, rather than chronological time. Therefore, we are constantly assessing what a child can handle independently and where he is headed next. Fortunately, children usually let us know what is next. It is up to us to negotiate a process whereby they can develop more self-reliance. Support for their engagement as they master skills or take on increasingly more responsibility can be gradually withdrawn as they demonstrate a readiness. In other words, limits are created and amended on developmental time, not chronological or social time.

If you have not already read the distinction between developmental time and social/biological time, this would be a good time to click on that link.

The Bedtime Ritual

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Establishing a bedtime ritual early in a child’s life is an essential piece of effective parenting. The Bedtime Ritual creates a process that fosters many of our goals for self development and healthy relatedness. For example, it becomes a valuable time for tuning into children’s thoughts and feelings and curiously questioning potential misperceptions. In some cases, it is a chance to hear about problems before the “cognitive” cement dries. This process that promotes self-reliance also has broader applications.

 

Promoting self-reliance and closeness

From his earliest age, Neal had a fixed bedtime. He was like any other kid, wanting to stay up as late as possible. Getting ready for bed was not at the top of his favorites list either, but unlike many other kids, he almost always did it willingly. “What is wrong with this kid”, you ask. “That’s just not normal”, you say.

Neal’s parents appreciated the need for clear limits. They also appreciated the need for establishing dependable rituals. Neal understood that bedtime was at the same time every night. But bedtime, in Neal’s home, was a time frame involving a process, not just a discrete time of day. It began at a fixed time and ended at a fixed time. Within that span of time, he was expected to get ready for bed and then get his stories. And story time in this home was special time.

‘Getting ready for bed’ was a set of expectations that changed with developmental maturity. From putting on his own pj’s to picking up his clothes to brushing his own teeth to taking a shower and hanging up his towel, the expectations for self-reliance rose with capability. The incentive for their completion was simple. All the remaining time, before the end of bedtime, was available for story time.

The ritual of bedtime stories began for Neal even before he knew what a story was. Story time, begun in the earliest months of life, was associated with snuggling close with Mom or Dad and listening to their soothing voices. As he got older, he had his favorite stories to hear and a million questions to ask. Although his mother preferred books, his father enjoyed telling stories. Neal enjoyed diving in with his own version of how the stories should go, which led to some creative destinations neither of them could account for by the time they ended. And end they did, at the same time every night. Bargaining for staying up later and hearing more was met with a response of, “I enjoy this as much as you do. If you want more story time, then get ready for bed earlier”. The occasional tearful evening of “It’s not fair. I didn’t get enough story,” was usually followed the next evening with a kid ready to go as early as possible. Instead of nighttime battles over getting ready for bed, Neal was increasingly self-reliant in getting himself ready because story time was simply the best time of day.

Neal’s parents were good about getting on the right side of issues. Instead of ‘I want you to want what I want for you to want’ or something like that, they carefully created systems that took advantage of what children naturally wanted. In the case of bedtime, Neal wanted stories, time with Mom and Dad, and as much of it as he could get. Bounded by the limit of when bedtime ended, his parents offered support and encouragement, rather than control and punishment. They wanted him to succeed (via his self-reliance) and were eager to have satisfying (relatedness) time together. That was quite different than many other households where everything was a battle over compliance.

Expectations for self-reliance extended to other areas of Neal’s life. As he became old enough, his parents expected him to wash his own clothes. During the learning phase, he had one of them at his side to make sure that clothes were sorted, detergent was measured and washer settings were appropriate. But with increased capability that responsibility was turned over to him. The bedtime model of ‘the sooner you take care of business, the sooner we get to do the fun stuff’ held for tasks like laundry and clean-up. Even if he wasn’t always motivated to have clean clothes to wear and a clean room, he rarely wanted to miss out on the outing Dad was waiting to go on with the rest of their Saturday morning.

Eventually, the self-reliant bedtime process was a non-issue. On the occasional evening when he preferred to dawdle in the bathroom or he had something too interesting to stop, it was recognized that he was making that choice to limit his story time. Instead of it being an argument or something withheld, it was framed as a choice that Neal had made and it was respected. Over time, Neal recognized that the bedtime process and available time were under his control. And with few exceptions, he wanted that special time with Mom or Dad.

Who knows when story time ceased being passive entertainment? Neal had interests and opinions and they were honored in the process of story time. He enjoyed hearing some stories over and over. But eventually, he enjoyed taking over the telling of those well-learned stories. He enjoyed hearing his father’s made-up stories, especially when he was a character in them, but he eventually liked coauthoring them as well. That way, he got to be the hero he deserved to be, but sometimes had more than his share of Daddy-created-bad-guys to defeat.

As he became older and his interests changed, he moved beyond make believe stories to discussions of real life. He enjoyed answering his dad’s questions about how his day had gone. His mom especially liked keeping up with where things stood with friends, while his dad was particularly interested in what his next big project was going to be.

These bedtime discussions were not only enjoyable; they were also an important part of parental attunement. Neal often used this time to tell his story, such as those things at school that excited him or worried him. When a problem with a friend arose, this became his reliable time to talk about it with a parent. Sometimes those discussions arose after his mom or dad noticed he wasn’t quite his old self.

Regardless of age, we all make attributions about events and interactions. Many times we feel certain we know what happened and why, but in reality, we often “don’t know what we don’t know”. Children are especially vulnerable to reaching conclusions without knowing all the facts or making all the connections. For instance, a harsh interaction on the playground may need unraveling and reconstructing, like when Neal said, “James said the game was locked (and I couldn’t play). When I asked why, he said I wasn’t one of the ‘cool’ kids”.

Developmentally, or cognitively, children’s brains are not developed enough to do this bigger picture integration. They are reliant upon our questions to help them think of other possibilities and make unrecognized connections. In essence, parents serve as the missing cortex during childhood. Without this parent assisted analysis, kids go on thinking and feeling the way they do as a result of what someone did to them or what they believe was done to them. We all jump to conclusions, trying to make immediate sense of what has happened and why. But those conclusions are not always right and deserve careful analysis before they grow into firm beliefs.

A curious inquiry at bedtime can help a child go to sleep with a healthier take on the day’s events. Assumptions a child makes about himself and others can affect his future interactions and interpretations. Our brains do a great deal of work in terms of consolidating memories and filing things away while we sleep. Therefore, it only makes sense that we talk to our kids ‘before the cement dries’.