What is Power-Balancing?

Recently, I was giving a talk at a preschool about how parents can mediate sibling disputes. I've written a book on the subject, and I'm currently in the process of getting my book published. One of the themes I touched on during my talk was power-balancing. This is a mainstay of mediation practice, and the parents participating in the talk requested more info about it – hence this post.

A skillful mediator uses power-balancing techniques in order to neutralize obvious differences in rank or power. With natural imbalances suspended in this way, the parties can mediate on a level playing field as the equal human beings that they are. This works well when you are trying to conduct discussions (even heated ones!) among sisters and brothers. There are so many ways in which siblings can be out of balance. These include age, size, strength, maturity level (as distinguished from age), temperament (personality), emotional expressiveness, verbal skill, ability/disability, and self-control.

A first power-balancing step is your decision about who should go first. Getting the chance to speak first can help someone who feels powerless or agitated to get a grip on things. Even how you address the children is important. Be aware of the use of nicknames. When mediating, it won't do to call your older son Arthur and his younger brother Booboo. It's either “Arthur and Bob” or “Artie and Booboo” – no mix and match!

Pay close attention to their body language. This may be your guide in helping kids dial it up or down. Jennifer may have expounded in loud and emphatic terms about a conflict with her younger sister Natalie, and all Natalie can come up with is “I'm mad” – even though it's obvious from her posture and expression that she is seething with rage. You may need to help her with words that match what you sense she is truly feeling: “It looks like this has made you absolutely furious.” Then re-state what Jennifer has said in brief, slightly less dramatic terms. By re-writing their statements in the same font, so to speak, you help them feel equally valued and heard.

You may have to “translate.” The more mature or verbal child can overwhelm a sibling with words. Being clever with language gives him a lot of power; the less articulate sibling may feel like his brother is armed with a cannon whereas all he has is a slingshot. By simplifying what the highly verbal child says, and upgrading the terms of the less verbal one, you accomplish two things. First, you validate their feelings and opinions as having equal weight. Second, you enable the children to better hear and understand each other. Communication is maximized when differences in sophistication are minimized.

Typically, a mediator demonstrates neutrality through body language and other behavior – by spending equal amounts of time listening to each party, making eye contact with each, and warmly validating what both of them say. However, with kids, sometimes it's necessary to sit closer to one, perhaps even taking a toddler in your lap, in order to keep things focused and non-physical. I would say something like “I'm going to hold you to keep everybody safe.” That way, both kids will understand that you're not cuddling with the more wiggly child, just protecting the process.

An older (or shrewder, or smoother-talking) child may be able to sell her sibling on a plan that is not in that sibling's best interest. If you catch the scent of unfairness in the air, first check to make sure you're not just reacting to “kid justice,” which can sound very different from the “even-Steven” approach we adults usually take. If you're quite certain that one of them is being snowed, try asking what-if questions in order to gently unveil the unfairness. You may want to build a re-check into the kids' agreement, such as meeting in a week to see how things are going, and to re-open negotiations if necessary. “Live and learn” is a great teacher! Just remember that the balance between your personal sense of fairness and the need to remain neutral can be a delicate one. You can't really mediate if you are over-protecting one of the parties.

A last thing to keep in mind is that the adoration a younger sibling may feel for the older brother or sister is usually not reciprocated. Little kids usually look up to older kids. From the older child's perspective, it may appear something like this:

      I feel pestered by him (I experience his attentions, questions and requests as annoying)

      He must enjoy pestering me

      Therefore he’s a pest

The symmetry is just not there. It's hard for an older child to imagine what a thrill it is for the younger sibling to be included, heard and respected by him. This is not an easy playing field for a parent to level, but anything you can do to to develop this insight (without guilt or pressure, which usually backfire) can be very helpful.

Scary Dreams

By the end of the second year, a lot of kids have had scary dreams. A nightmare might be just an image, or perhaps it's a more developed scenario.  Usually it's hard for toddlers to find a way to talk specifically about scary dreams.

What they need is a little bit of information and a lot of understanding.  I think sometimes parents get hung up on the first part and shortchange kids on the second.  Saying flatly "it isn't real" can lead to an argument about whether it's real or not, which just adds another layer of feeling bad.  After all, the dream sure felt "real" to your child!  And the terror she's experiencing in the wake of the nightmare is real as can be.  I might say something like "When you're sleeping, your imagination makes up stories and sometimes they're scary.  Do you want to talk about your dream?"  You've planted a tiny seed about the un-realness of the dream, but without insisting.  Try not to press your child to talk about it.  We can be so curious about the content of the dream that we end up grilling her for information she's not really capable of putting into words.

The big part of the story is empathy.  Holding our child close and acknowledging the fear is the best medicine.  "You sure had a scary dream.  I can see that you're shaking and crying.  Let's cuddle for a while until you feel better.  When you are calmer, we can all go back to sleep."

By age three or four, kids are usually more able to talk about their dreams. Just listen and reflect, using their words whenever possible:  "Wow, a 'big witch as tall as a tree.'  That must have been really scary for you!"  As anyone who's tried to get info out of a preschooler knows, "open" questions (who, what, where, why, when) yield richer results than multiple-choice questions or questions with a yes/no answer.  A day or two after a bad dream, if it seems appropriate, you can make a little book with your child.  Starting with either the words he tells you or the pictures he makes about the dream, you can fuse his words and pictures into a narrative.  (The drawings don't have to be representational to have meaning for the child.  They may look like scribbles to you.)   Making a book can be especially helpful if he is having a recurring nightmare or a series of bad dreams on a single theme.

Fours and fives can play around with different endings.  Questions like "what did you want the witch to do?" help a child construct a different ending in which they feel more powerful and in-charge. Wouldn't that make a consoling and satisfying book!  Some people can even be coached to wake themselves up if a dream gets too scary, or to alter the ending of a recurring nightmare:  "What would you like to say to the bear to make him stop chasing you?"  (Not everyone can learn to do these things; they're just suggestions to put out there.)

Talking about our dreams helps us to be self-reflective.  Talk about the good ones and the bad ones.  Share your own dreams – just the fanciful, pleasant ones, of course.  In the words of Laura Davis and Janis Keyser (Becoming the Parent You Want to Be) "If we think about dreams as our mind's way of processing things that happened when we were awake, we can look at nightmares as tools for the exploration and expression of fears.  If your child is having nightmares, it can be useful to think about what he is grappling with.  If you can figure out what is scaring him, you might be able to help him work on it during the day."

Raising a Fussbudget?

“Oh, Susie, don't be such a fussbudget!” I can still hear my mother saying that. She had probably heard it a lot from her mother. The youngest of six kids, my mom grew up without being catered to. She knew she was loved, but she learned to make do. This was probably a good thing, because it prepared her to handle a lot of crises and challenges – being orphaned at twelve, enduring the depression, and weathering WWII...as a Spar in the Coast Guard!

In her postwar role as mother, she countered my fussbudgeting with exasperated dismissal. I would fret if the little, discrete piles of food on my plate touched each other. Her response? “Imagine how they look all mixed up in your stomach!” (Eew.) A lot of kid-fussing centers around food. But really, what was the worst thing that could happen if I only picked at my dinner? Mom knew the answer to that was “not much.” (For more about picky eaters, scroll down to my blog of 2/15/14.)

When your child fusses about things, it's sometimes a tough call how much to get involved. It can take you down a rabbit hole of endless repetition. The French braids don't feel quite right, or the part isn't straight, so you braid her hair again – and then again, and again. The socks feel “weird” inside his shoes, so off go the shoes, the socks get readjusted, back on with the shoes and – whoops, that's not quite right either. Rinse, repeat. Doing something over and over starts to feel ridiculous and futile – probably because it is ridiculous and futile. (For more on reasonableness, scroll down to my blog of 1/9/14.)

If you've already spent some time down that rabbit hole, both you and your child know it. So be clear and honest. “Y'know, sometimes when I do it a second time, you don't like it any more than you did the first time. So doing it a second time is kind of taking a chance, isn't it? Do you want to take the chance? Because I'm not going to do it a third time.” Then keep your word, even if this produces further fussing. You're no longer reinforcing an unreasonable demand by making believe it's reasonable. And somehow, your child will learn to make do.

In short, when you get sucked into a pattern (like these endless attempts to correct an irritant) you are reinforcing the fussing. When instead you adopt a blasé, take-it-or-leave-it attitude, it sets the expectation that your child's tolerance and flexibility will broaden. That expectation itself is contagious. And while you probably can't turn a fussbudget into a relaxed, “whatever” sort of person, you can at least set limits about how engaged you want to be in the fussing.

Finally, take a look at the bright side: perfectionistic, detail-oriented people are extremely well-suited to a lot of professions. Many of them grow up to be lawyers, party planners, office managers, doctors, script supervisors, organizers, accountants and travel agents. They tend to be hard on themselves, but this helps them succeed!

"Back to Normal" by Enrico Gnaulati, PHD

It's always a pleasure to be able to recommend parenting books that are helpful and encouraging. I just finished reading Back to Normal by Enrico Gnaulati, PHD. This is a great book for any parent who is concerned that his or her child may have a learning disability or emotional disorder, or who has been approached by the child's teacher with a concern. (Disclaimer: the author is a friend and colleague – but this is truly a book worth your time!)

Dr. Gnaulati addresses multiple themes in his book. The first is that we are a diagnosis-happy, medication-happy culture. He is so right. And while there is nothing wrong with labeling certain disorders – for one thing, that's how kids with legitimate challenges get the interventions they need – we tend to overuse any new label until it just becomes a “miscellany section” for kids we don't understand. This what happened to terms like “hyperactive”/ADD/ADHD in the late twentieth century, and now it's happening with autistic/Asperger's/autism spectrum disorder and “bipolar disorder.” Gnaulati's point is that we have to really look and learn in order to understand each individual child. Sometimes that wiggly preschooler actually needs a new and better preschool (more about that later.) And sometimes that angry teenager needs family therapy, not just a pill to mute his feelings and make him more convenient to live with. In our impatience for a quick fix, we are rushing to diagnose and trying to solve problems with microwave solutions. Sometimes a long, slow bake in the oven is what's called for.

A second theme developed in this book is the insidious way that our reporting/evaluating/diagnosing community has come, over time, to skew female. Preschool and elementary school teachers, pediatricians and child psychologists are now predominantly women, in most cases by quite a majority. This means that children are actually being examined through a female lens. Should we be surprised that boys come up short under that lens? In a chapter titled “Abnormalizing Boys,” Gnaulati shows how this plays out. Girls, it turns out, are better at what he calls “doing school.”

A third theme is that parenting has really, really changed. Because of demanding work schedules, available time to parent has radically shrunken. Academic pressure is higher than ever before. And technology makes keeping tabs on one's child a daunting challenge. Gnaulati offers advice in his last chapter, “Parenting with Authority,” that is realistic, sound, and up-to-the-minute.

Often citing compelling statistics, he advances his thesis with thoroughgoing care. (Did you know that “over 30 percent of children diagnosed as autistic at age two no longer fit the diagnosis at age four”? I didn't!) I hope lots of parents will read this book. And I really hope teachers and administrators will read it too. A preschool that finds itself referring lots of kids (usually boys, hmmmm...) for evaluation might want to take a long, hard look at its curriculum. Do kids have plenty of time to run and climb and move about? Are there choices of activities, and are kids' play preferences respected? Teachers will find that kids who get to blow off steam before and after the quiet, structured times in the day will get more out of the “downtime” activities because they will be calmer and better-focused. And those same kids will present less of a behavior-management problem overall.

Gnaulati doesn't confine his critique of schools to the early years. He has a lot to say about how high schools fail to meet kids' needs. One big idea is that the 7 AM-to-3 PM schedule followed by most upper schools is completely out of sync with a teenager's natural circadian rhythm. And yet we know that teenagers get so much less sleep than they require! The kids are held hostage to bus schedules and other bureaucratic concerns. How much teen angst is due to the simple fact that these kids are horribly, desperately sleep deprived? The irony is that if we made the schools more age-appropriate and kid-friendly, we would be making our jobs as parents, teachers and administrators easier too.

Dr. Gnaulati has given us a wonderful resource. Please have a look at it, and share it with friends and family. I highly recommend this groundbreaking book to any parent you know who is worried about his child's demeanor or behavior.

The Death of a Pet - Further Thoughts and Book Ideas

In my last post, I talked about the death of a pet. These are some follow-up points you might find worth thinking about. Also included are books on this topic that I think are useful and comforting.

• Be sure that you share the sad news with all the important people in your child's life – teachers, babysitters, grandparents. You can tell them what your conversations have covered so far. Constructing an understanding of death is the work of a lifetime, and you have laid a few foundational bricks. Those close to your family may, if invited by your child, lay a few more. At the very least, they will want to commiserate.
• Avoid euphemisms. People use the phrase “passed away” a lot these days, but it has no meaning to a child. Not only is it unclear, but it delivers a vague hope of return. Get comfortable with words like death, dead, died, dying. They won't bite! And definitely avoid using “sleep” as a metaphor for death. This can be scary.
• If the pet who died was young, you won't be able to use the “old age” scenario described in my previous blog. Explain that it's very unusual for young animals to get this sick, and that the illness was quite serious – not at at all like a cold or tummy virus. Tell your child that the doctors tried really hard to make Muffy well again, but she was just too sick. 
• A word about euthanasia: it's really hard for young kids to understand the need to “put down” an old or suffering pet. Naturally optimistic, they see this as giving up. It's nearly impossible for them to understand it as an act of compassion. In this case, I'd just say the doctors tried everything but couldn't keep the pet alive. (This is not untrue. The veterinarian could not, in good conscience, keep Muffy alive.) By the time kids enter adolescence, they might have the maturity to accompany you when Muffy is euthanized. For the older child (I'd say a very mature ten-year-old, at the youngest) I'd check with the vet and give my child a choice about participating. Saying goodbye and seeing the animal die peacefully might be really consoling.
• Unfortunately, a lot of modern, urban kids only experience the sad part of the life cycle. So many of our pets are “fixed” (and IMHO, that's a good thing) that most kids don't get to see animals being born. Look for ways to expose them to this joyous and awe-inspiring part of the life cycle through media, or a visit to a farm, zoo or county fair.
• Kids can be immensely curious about what happens after death. If you are asked, I think it's best to tell your child what you believe. If you have faith in an afterlife, and you hope to be reunited with your pet, say so. If you're a nonbeliever, it may be tempting to paint a picture you yourself don't actually buy. That just kicks the discussion down the road. Also, it erodes trust.  You can say that the pet will be forever in our hearts and minds.  But what if each parent has a different idea of what happens after death? Why not? Each parent can say what (s)he believes while respectfully honoring the other parent's view. In the end, we all choose what and how we believe. Our kids will too.

Here are some really wonderful books about the death of an animal:

Brown, Margaret Wise, The Dead Bird is a classic that simply and eloquently depicts a group of children who bury a dead bird they have found.

Kantrowitz, Mildred, When Violet Died depicts the “appropriate fun, yet honorable funeral for a pet bird [and] uses the cycle of life and the bright future of a pregnant cat.” (Parent review on Amazon)

Viorst, Judith, The Tenth Good Thing About Barney is a realistic, tender tale about a pet cat’s funeral. The neighbor kids in this book disagree about whether Barney is in heaven.

When your child starts asking questions about people dying, or death in general, have a look at:

Grollman, Earl A., Talking About Death, A Dialogue Between Parent and Child is something of a “bible” on this topic. It is really two books in one, a text for children and a companion book for the parent which includes resources, an extensive bibliography and more.

Mellonie, Bryan and Ingpen, Robert, Lifetimes, The Beautiful Way to Explain Death to Children provides a poetic yet straightforward explanation of the life cycle.

The Death of a Pet

Dear Susie,

Our dog died last night. My sons are just five and 2 ½. This is going to be such a hard conversation! I'd appreciate any thoughts you can share.

Dear Parent,

I'm so sorry! We always had a houseful of pets and I loved each and every one of them. This never gets easier, does it?

As with any  "tender topic," I think the best rule of thumb is to say the smallest true thing you can.  Your child's questions will lead the rest of the way.  You can start with, "Something very sad has happened in our family.  You know that Muffy lived a long, long time. [I sure hope this is the case.  If not, modify. I'll talk more about this in my next post.] She had a wonderful, happy, doggy life. She got very old and finally her body stopped working and she died.  I'm going to miss her so much."

Then let the questions come.  Try to answer them simply and honestly.  Please try not to worry that you may cry during this talk. The topic is sad – and your sadness, though a little upsetting, will make sense to your kids. Crying gives them permission to grieve too. Faking a stoic attitude would create a mismatch between your words and your demeanor.  This would be awkward for both you and your kids. To a certain extent, you will all be comforting one another, which is part of family life and family love. Your child's mirror neurons (related to empathy) will be firing like crazy. That's how we learn to care about, and care for, each other.

Your younger child may be a little baffled by everything about this conversation. For him, the biggest challenge will probably be to grasp the permanence of death. He may ask for Muffy a lot in the coming days. It could take weeks for him to understand that Muffy's not coming back. Your five-year-old may already have an understanding of death as permanent. He could be comforted by starting a little “memory book” of pictures and recollections that you can all contribute to, over time.

I'm a big believer in pet funerals. Doing something simple but ceremonial at home honors life and seals a memory. Let the kids help plan and carry out the funeral or memorial. When I was a little girl, we buried them under my favorite tree, right near my swing. I followed suit with my own kids. (Please don't flush Swimmy down the toilet! It's a clean and practical thing to do, but think of the message it sends.)

Questions may come fast and furious, or very gradually. What kinds of questions might your older one ask? We as adults tend to get past the nuts and bolts of burying or cremating a pet and focus on how sad we are. But for a four- or five-year-old, often the emphasis is on “the science of death.” Is Muffy asleep? Can she feel her body? Is she thinking? I would never liken death to sleep (this can be scary) but sometimes kids who see a dead animal wonder if it's sleeping. If, and only if, your child expresses curiosity about this, point out that death is not at all like sleep. When Muffy was alive, she was doing a lot of things while she slept – her lungs were breathing, her heart was beating, her brain was dreaming, her stomach was digesting food. Now none of those things is happening because her body has stopped working. (A solid understanding of this makes the idea of cremation or burial a lot less upsetting.)

Parents have sometimes told me they didn't want to have small pets such as goldfish or hamsters “because they die.” I would argue that this is one very good reason to have them! Experiencing the life cycle on a manageable scale informs and steels your child for the profounder losses that will follow throughout life. Without suffering loss, a child cannot learn that loss is survivable. Maybe I should state that another way: suffering a loss will teach your child that it's survivable.

The Picky Eater

Dear Susie,

My best friend's little girl, age 2 ½,  is a very adventurous eater.  Also, she eats a good amount at every sitting.  My daughter, who is a little older, eats like a bird and always says "I don't like that" when any unfamiliar food is put before her.  My friend and I share recipes all the time, and our families have similar tastes in food.  What could be causing this?

Dear Parent,

Right up there with toilet learning and oppositional behavior, this is an often-raised topic among parents of toddlers.  Kids in this age range are notoriously poor eaters.  I'd say the “adventurous eater” is the exception, not the rule.  Often I point out two kids at snacktime.  They are about the same height and weight, both equally robust and active.  Yet one eats like a stevedore and the other is – well, in the words of one of my moms, “he's an air fern,” apparently subsisting on airborne nutrients!  It would be nearly impossible to find two grownups with such disparate eating habits who share the same physiognomy and energy level.  What's up with that?

I have to think that Nature protected our hunter-gatherer ancestors by making sure that just-weaned two- and three-year-olds could thrive in times of plenty (without getting too chubby to keep up with the clan) while also being able to subsist when food was scarce.  The gorging stevedore and the air fern may be simply playing out these feast/famine conditions, respectively.  And both kids are fine!

But, since no one seems to worry about the hearty eater, let's focus on why some kids are picky about food.  In some cases, the answer is found in temperament.  Back in the fifties, Alexander Thomas, Stella Chess and others began studying infant temperament.  Their longitudinal study provided concrete evidence of innate personality traits.  This merely provided scientific underpinnings to long-held folk wisdom.  Shakespeare knew it (remember “the four humours”?) and for that matter, so does any parent with more than one kid! 

One feature of temperament, as identified by Thomas and Chess, is Approach.  Approach is about how a person enters into an unfamiliar situation.  For “cautious approach” folks, new foods, new people and new places pose more of a challenge than an opportunity.  These people tend to be that way for life.  Another feature of temperament identified by the researchers is Sensory Awareness.  Kids who are acutely sensitive to sights, smells and textures may balk if the carrots are cut differently, or if the butter on the asparagus is unsalted today.

That said, some toddlers/preschoolers just go through a picky phase.   Some hints on helping a balky eater:

✔     First, try to adopt a blasé, take-it-or-leave-it attitude.  Avoid coaxing and bribing. If you are over-invested, you child can sense this and may try use it for attention and power.  Not pretty!  A toddler's natural obstinacy can extend to the dining table especially if (s)he knows that this is a good way to get your goat.  If I've learned one thing, it's that trying to control either end of a child's alimentary canal (what goes in and what comes out) is a fight you cannot win.  Rely on good vitamin supplements to fill the gaps in the diet.  And vent your frustration on this subject out of earshot of your child.  “He's picky eater” can become a self-fulfilling prophesy.

✔     Introduce new foods one-by-one, gradually but consistently.  A daily dose of unfamiliar foods makes this child feel as disoriented and overstimulated as you might be if I dragged you to a different shopping mall every day.  Experts say that you might have to present a food ten or twenty times before the child will try it.  Most parents give up before the child has become sufficiently familiar with the look and smell of the new food to venture a taste.

✔     “Ooh” and “ahh” about your food, saying how much you like it and describing why.  Do this spontaneously and casually, not in the context of persuading your child to try something.

✔     Try eating family style, as in a Chinese restaurant.  Allow your child to choose for him/herself from the community platter, assisting only with transferring the food, and only if necessary. Your child will feel a sense of control and autonomy, which reduces tension around eating. (Yes, you will have a few more dishes to wash, but it's actually thriftier, since food that spends time on someone's plate and doesn't get eaten usually ends up in the trash.  Food left on the serving plate is perfectly suitable as leftovers or for packing in school lunches – right?)

✔     Kids like “cute food.”  Broccoli trees can grow on mashed potato islands.  Sandwiches can have faces, or come in funny shapes.  Use your imagination!

✔     Reframe “I don't like it.”  If this is a new food, you can respond, “Sounds like you're not sure what this tastes like.”  This addresses the underlying uncertainly (while piquing your child's curiosity) instead of focusing on the negative.

✔     Kids are often more amenable to eating foods they helped make or which they can put together themselves.  Enlist them to tear lettuce for the salad, or cut soft (or parboiled) veggies with a plastic serrated knife.  Serve tacos with all the fillings displayed so the kids and can choose and assemble their own customized dinner.  They often enjoy dipping veggies in ranch dressing, apple sauce + yogurt, peanut butter or hummus.  (A lot of kids prefer raw veggies to cooked ones, and what's the harm in that?)  They enjoy decorating an English muffin or pita with food, then baking and eating it.  Or try deconstructing a pizza:  serve veggies, mushrooms, chunks of cheese, salami and bread sticks that they can dip in pizza sauce.  Play with your food!  (Not literally.  If this devolves into messing, say “Looks like you're not hungry” and take the food away.)

✔     Indulge the need for sameness at breakfast and lunch, but don't let a child's limited repertoire completely derail your family dinner.  Having mac and cheese every night just to cater to one person is pretty dispiriting for the others, and it sets the wrong tone – narrowing options rather than branching out.  Maybe you can compromise by having that child's favorite once a week. (We had Taco Tuesdays for about ten years.  Sometimes I thought I would go utterly mad...but it was a night off from grumbling.)  And whatever you do, don't become a short-order chef, whipping up that special meal for one kid.  My daughter was something of a picky eater, and would often turn up her nose at my dinner offerings.  I was not willing to make separate meals to accommodate her.  The rule was, if she decided not to have what we were having, she could eat corn flakes for dinner (the only allowable alternative – the idea was that Plan B should be a single non-negotiable option as well being something she could prepare herself.)  This went on for about five years, but both of us survived. In fact, as an adult she loves to eat – and enjoys cooking more than her mother does!