Shaping, But Not Breaking, Your Child's Will

When Ellie was younger, I only had to look warningly at her if she was about to throw a pea from her high chair, and she would put the pea down and burst into tears. Even now, I speak with only mild displeasure and next thing I know there are sniffling sounds coming from the corner. So Eric threw us for quite a loop. He refused to take a bottle, going on hunger strikes for days until my dad finally drove him over every three hours for me to nurse at work (I think I’ve suppressed those memories). He throws physical tantrums from which he cannot be cajoled or distracted.

I’ve been mulling over this idea of the strong-willed child, and trying to get what it means to guide the will without destroying it. Interestingly, God gave me an experience this week that helped me get into Eric’s head a bit. It involved an issue that Dave and I frequently fight over, and it hit me that while in an objective, logistical way he may be right, the reason the issue became emotional dynamite is because my fundamental sense of self felt shut down, trampled on, by the way it was handled. I would have been much happier going along with things had I felt more validated, or been offered options.

It helped me see the difference between two things: the “object” of the will, and the “spirit” of the will. The object of the will is simply what it is you want, in whatever time or manner you want it: a vision, a concrete goal or item. The “spirit” of the will is that thing in you that wants: the desire, the force, the drive. It is your sense of self, your identity, derived from experiences, skills, talents, inclinations. It is your sense of self-image, derived from others’ feedback. It is your expression of self, your excitement and enthusiasm. It is the thing in you that fights and wants, that takes you through obstacles and difficulties.

The spirit of the will is a precious thing, and I think in children, often fragile. I want him to keep that. I want that to take him to amazing places through challenging times. But obviously, it is not okay for him to direct the spirit of his will towards wanting to empty the entire bag of rice on the floor, or towards hitting his sister on the head.

So you have to shape the will. If not, your kid becomes defiant, selfish, disrespective of authority, including possibly you when they’re a teenager, God, or their future spouse. They may not be observant enough of the world outside their own wants. They may not be malleable enough to be used by God. They may be too intolerant or judgmental of others.

At the same time, you don’t want to break the spirit of the will. Otherwise you destroy their self-motivation, their self-esteem. You may damage your relationship with them. They do not grow up into who God wants them to be, but what you want them to be.

I think you shape the will by very simply explaining consequences and enforcing them. You have to enforce them in a consistent manner that is free of anger (more on that later). I think, at the same time, you preserve the spirit of the will by understanding, and listening when appropriate. You give them some room within which to still exercise some control. You affirm their underlying self-image or any element of good in their desires whenever possible.

Some practical reminders for myself of things that have worked:

Give him a choice. I’m a person of task-oriented efficiency. Clearly, in the morning it is most efficient for me to get him from his crib, lie him down, and change his diaper and outfit at the same time before rounding everyone downstairs for dinner. But if he doesn’t want to change, I’m there strangling a kicking, screaming kid out of a poopy diaper and into clothes. Then Dave discovered, if you offer him a choice of shirts, he’ll simply pick one, and happily change into it. It’s not so much changing that he doesn’t like, as much as the way we ask him to change. So when possible, instead of issuing a command, I give him a choice.

Explain and listen. I used to think all two year-olds were irrational and petty, but I’ve actually found that if I explain things to Eric, and give him a chance to slowly get out what he’s thinking, he will often cooperate, which will spare us a tantrum and preserve his sense of self. If I yell at him, it never works. If I explain calmly with respect, it sometimes does.

Keep his love tank full. This pretty much goes for all our kids, but especially for Eric, I’ve noticed that if he feels unconditionally loved, if I have recently given him a lot of undivided attention and spoken in his love language, then he just chooses to exert his will against mine less. He’s more willing to go along for the sake of our relationship.

Pick your battles. And when you do, be firm. It can’t all be lovey-dovey talking and listening. Dave and I have discussed non-negotiable lines, we have made Eric aware of those lines, and if we witness intentional crossing of them, that is no time to talk, or “count to three,” or do anything but give an immediate time-out. Not wanting to put on his jacket—that isn’t a line we’ve drawn. Throwing something at someone else—that is. And believe me, he will keep scooching a toe over the line to see what we do. We’ve gotten to the point now where when he’s mad, he won’t throw something, but he will hold it in his hand and tell us he wants to throw it. So the whole tantrum sounds like this on repeat: “WANT TO THROW THE BEAD! WANT TO THROW THE BEAD!” What can I say, except, well, I can’t really help you there, buddy.