You know those moments when your child pushes you right to the edge - when you feel the anger bubbling up like lava, hot and uncontainable - and then… you erupt. And in the aftermath, when the ashes have settled, you hear yourself muttering through clenched teeth: “ She made me so angry.” “I shouted because he made me .” Because you know, normally , you’re a pretty great human—fun, calm, easy-going, the life of the party. But in those testing moments of tantrums, meltdowns,

Ever been in a situation where your child receives a present, and instead of politely expressing their gratitude , they tear off the wrapping paper, toss the box aside, and dive headfirst into playing with their new treasure? You stand there, your heart pounding , as if the spotlight of the entire universe is now on you. Your face starts to redden , you force a smile that feels more like a grimace, and you nervously nudge your child, whispering desperately , " Say 'thank y

I recently heard a story from a parent who was at her breaking point. Her two-year-old – right in the thick of what so many casually label the “terrible twos”  – had become “impossible.” ( I’ve written before about why phrases like “terrible twos,” “threenagers,” or “f***ing fours” are harmful and inaccurate… so I won’t unpack that here, but in short: these labels damage our perception of the child and our connection with them, and put us on opposing teams. ) This parent desc

Have you ever asked your child to do something — maybe put on their shoes, tidy up their toys, or sit down and colour — and felt like your words just vanished into thin air? POOF! Nothing you say seems to work: the nagging, the incentives, the threats… and yet the request still doesn’t land. Frustration mounts. You sigh. You raise your voice again. Still: nothing. Then you try something different. You say: “Come, let’s do it together.”   You begin doing the task alongside y