I don’t know about you, but for me, it often seems like all the parenting advice I receive centers on “tools” I should use. Typically, those “tools” focus on how to do things better (discipline, chores, play, feeding them, etc.). What isn’t talked about enough, at least not in my experience, are practices to use in parenting. You may be thinking, Oh, that’s just semantics — tools and practices are the same thing, and I hear that. However, I think it’s wrong. Tools are things we use to reach a specific goal; they’re tailored and often used situationally. Practices are things that we do consistently and routinely to help us reach a goal. This difference matters here because we’re talking about building relationships with our kids… which isn’t a situational goal, it’s a long-term goal, and requires long-term consistent work.
Most parents, if you ask us, will tell you that they want to build a trusting relationship with their kids. One that will withstand differences, boundaries, and the transitions into adulthood and remain for life. What most parents will also tell you is that we have no idea how to do that. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to answer that fully in this post, mostly because I don’t believe there’s one right answer. What I am going to talk about is how actively practicing curiosity with your kids can help build trust, create safe spaces, and promote honest, deeper communication between them and yourself.
If I had a quarter for every time I’ve picked up my kids from school, asked them how their day was, and received the answer “fine,” or asked them what they did all day and heard, “I don’t know,” I would have enough money to take you, me, and all of our besties on vacation. And I’d bet money that you have experienced the same thing. Turns out… it’s completely normal, and the reason why it happens is applicable to a lot of questions we ask our kids. Broad questions like “what did you do,” “how was it,” “how are you,” etc. require a lot of mental work from our kids. They’ve gone through a whole day of performing academically, navigating friendship dynamics, controlling their bodies, etc., and to wrap all of that up to answer one question is overwhelming. The feeling of overwhelm is something they experience when we ask questions in tough moments, too.
For instance, if your child gets into “trouble” (I hate that word) at school, and you have to speak with their teacher at pickup. When you see your kid for the first time after hearing from their teacher, your first instinct is probably to ask, “What happened today?” or “Is there anything you want to tell me?” Those questions are broad and overwhelming.
If you, instead, ask a question (curiously, not accusatorially) that pinpoints the situation, you’re likely to get a more specific answer. Example: “I talked to your teacher before I picked you up, and it seems like there may have been something that happened today that made you upset. I’d really love to hear about what happened and how you’re doing now. Can we talk about that?”
This tells them that you already know some of the details and takes that responsibility off of them. It also communicates to them that you’re curious about their experience, perspective, and feelings about the situation instead of being instantly angry. It tells them that their side of the story matters to you.
Another example is if you catch your kid sneaking things. For me, personally, one of my kids loves to sneak snacks… even though he’s allowed to eat said snacks every day, so there’s no reason to sneak them. My first instinct is to say “Absolutely not! Go put that back right now. Why would you sneak this when you’ve already eaten dinner, and you had these snacks available all day?” That immediately puts my child on the defensive. Instead, what I’m working on doing more of is trying to pause and get curious. What does that look like? It looks like me taking a deep breath and asking something like “hey bud, can you tell me why you’re taking these snacks? You’ve had access to them all day, and you know that we don’t take food to bed with us. If there’s something going on with your hunger, I’d love to know so that I can help you find better ways to take care of your body. Can you share what’s going on with me?”
Reframing our specific, pointed questions as curious, open-ended ones (even while still specific) communicates to our children that we don’t already have our minds made up and aren’t looking for a “right” answer. It takes away the need for them to defend themselves and instead gives them safety and permission to share their genuine experience, feelings, and also for them to own up to mistakes without fear of us escalating in response. It’s the sense of safety and the genuine knowing that we care that will transform our relationships with our kids. When they know that we are here to listen, help, and love them, they will be more likely to open up without fear, trust that we have their best interest in mind (even if they disagree with us), and our relationships will grow deeper.
