Feedback is a gift… especially when received from your child
I introduced Avi to the word “feedback” when he was ~2.5 years old. I told him that feedback implies “using our words (not scream, cry, etc.) to let the other person know what they did and how it made you feel”. He caught right on! Since then, Raghav and I have received more feedback than ever in our lives. Yes, there have been a lot of “daddy, you didn’t let me have an ice-cream and that made me very sad”, but also some serious moments of awakening.
Receiving feedback from your child is beautiful. It is a window in their brain and can show you “their perspective”, which is very powerful. It can help you understand how they are observing, perceiving and internalizing a situation, what effect is it having on them, and why it is manifesting in a specific reaction that can be verbal (e.g. scream) or physical (e.g. hitting). As a parent, it can be empowering because now you actually understand and in many cases, can address the root cause.
I recently received some pretty hard-hitting feedback from Avi, resulting in a powerful insight and significant shift in my parenting approach on a specific dimension. After a delicious family meal and conversation, Avi decided to jump over a 2m railing (instead of exiting through the door) to leave the restaurant. I asked him to stop, which made him very upset and punch me in my stomach. In that moment, I was overwhelmed by my own ‘big feelings’ — anger, disappointment and shame — all at once, and couldn’t even remotely entertain the thought of how things could look different from his vantage point.
I walked away from him. Few minutes later, after he was settled in his car seat and I had calmed down, I approached him with a genuine curiosity and asked why he reacted the way he did. His response stunned me beyond words: “I was angry because you were discouraging me”. When I asked him to say more, he explained that he would like ‘his mom to always encourage him, especially when he tries something new’. I even asked him (admittedly defensively and sarcastically) what he would like me to say to him if he’s trying to jump a railing?, and was once again taken back by his response: “I want you to say — You’re doing great. Keep trying!” Wow, how powerful was this feedback! I had to pause for a few minutes to soak in this insight.
That night, I reflected on how I had often discouraged him when he was attempting a task that I perceived to be dangerous. I also noticed another pattern — I discourage him only when he tries something new out of his own accord, and not when I wanted him to try something. I even replayed my diatribe from earlier that day: ‘Its dangerous! You’re not even wearing sneakers. You could fall and hurt yourself with those crocs.. If you want to climb things, you gotta practice and strengthen your leg muscles, and first do it in a safe place. Should we reconsider gymnastics? Noelle goes for gymnastics as well’. I said a lot in a minute. How overwhelming it must be for a 4 year old to listen to me while eagerly trying to show me a new ‘trick’! I stood in front of a mirror and practiced saying “You’re doing great. Keep trying!” verbatim, just as Avi had advised me.
In the following weeks, I started paying closer attention to my natural reaction and choice of words when Avi was attempting something that was outside of either his comfort zone or mine (or as it turns out, often both of our comfort zones). I carefully observed and learnt from other parents and even Avi. Yes, he always encouraged me when I’m doing trying something new including baking a pumpkin pie for the first time. I also noticed how wonderful and encouraging he’s towards other kids as well. During a recent visit to a children’s science museum, Avi wanted to interact with an exhibit that required more than one child to move a ball along. After recruiting me, he approached and instructed another child, who couldn’t initially figure out how to work the gears. After demonstrating and explaining to her, he stood there for a few minutes, watching over her shoulder to ensure that she’s got it and exclaimed ‘Yes, that’s how it is done. Good job, you’re doing great!’. How precious! In that moment, I saw an example of a doggedness to pursue the goal (i.e. move ball along), fearlessly approach and instruct another child, and ah, those precious words of encouragement that he longs for from his own mom.
I’m beyond grateful for his feedback, which made me aware, and gave me the opportunity to learn and correct what isn’t working for my child. I hope you’re also able to cultivate a feedback culture in your home and provide this tool to your children to effectively communicate what’s frustrating them (and also what’s working for them )— in words, and not screams, cries, blows, etc.
