How to Talk So Kids Will Listen

How to Talk So Kids Will Listen and Listen So Kids Will Talk
By Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish (304 pages)
Published by Harper Perennial
Bookish rating: 3.5

As you may know, Washington Post columnist Caroyln Hax has the power to affect what I say, do, and read. She's quite powerful. This book--a parenting classic, which I'm certain MY parents never read (but that's neither here nor there)--is one of those parenting books Hax repeatedly recommends during her chats and whatnot. And because almighty Hax rarely leads me astray, I decided to read How to Talk in hopes of gleaning some communication kernels of wisdom to apply to my child who often seems to just not listen to me.

Lesson #1: Charlotte may not listen to me, but do I listen to her? Ruh-roh.

This is one of those books you read that causes an unsettling ick in the pit of your tummy as you realize that you're doing everything all wrong. While I don't agree with everything Faber and Mazlish suggest---for example, some conversation examples are far too wordy for young children--the overall premise is a good one: shut up for a second and LISTEN to your kid.

Doing so, they argue, will bring down the tantrum level and increase compliance. So, I tried this with Charlotte. Currently, my first-born is going through a phase in which she doesn't want to wear pants. It's endearing when she's decorating the Christmas tree, especially if she opts for her Elmo slippers, but it's problematic if we actually need to leave the house.

So, instead of all out war to get her to put on pants, as before, I tried the following:

Charlotte: I don't want to wear pants! [starts crying]
Me: [letting her know I hear her] You don't want to wear pants! Charlotte does NOT want to wear pants.
Charlotte: [stops crying, looks at me, nods while snot and tears run down her face]
Me: [calmly] You don't want to wear pants. I wish you didn't have to wear pants. I wish you could wear just undies ALL day.
Charlotte: [listening remarkably intently]
Me: I wish you didn't have to wear pants, but when we go to church, we wear pants. Mommy had to put on pants, too.
Charlotte: [sniffles]
Me: How about the pants with flowers? Lorelei's pants also have flowers on them today, remember?
Charlotte: [nods and starts putting on her pants]

The idea is that you validate your child's feelings. I admit, this sounds really  . . . . loosey goosey touchy feely. The thing is, doing so works. After all, one of the things that ticks me off more than anything is when I feel like Chris isn't hearing what I'm trying to say, either tuning me out or bypassing a gripe of mine. Then I get frustrated. Really, really frustrated. And a little difficult to live with. Why on earth would a young child be different?

Another tidbit I found useful is how to encourage autonomy and good behavior. Charlotte is fiercely independent, and I need to reign in some of that independence, so she uses it for good rather than evil. What to do? Well, Faber and Mazlish argue you should DESCRIBE what your kid does well rather than just label something as fantastic (or crappy). This one is tricky, because we parents have a knee-jerk reaction to describe everything as just great that our kid shows us or does, but we have to be specific in a way that essentially praises their effort.

So, again, I gave it a whirl. During meals, Charlotte's table manners are less than stellar. She would eat soup with her fingers if allowed. Obviously, meal times have been reduced to a back-and-forth arguments of "use your fork" and "no, I use my fingers!"

What could a new approach hurt? What I was doing certainly wasn't working. This time:

Me: Here's a fork for your cheese muffin [cut up English muffin with melted cheddar].
Charlotte: [eyes it suspiciously]
Me: [sitting down next to her] Mommy has a cheese muffin, too.
Charlotte: Like Charlotte?
Me: Yup. I'm going to eat mine with my fork. [I stab a piece of food.]
Charlotte: [uses fork to take a bite]
Me: You just put that bite on your fork like a big girl.
Charlotte: [grins] I'm a big girl!
Me: I like eating next to you when you eat with your fork like a big girl.
Charlotte: Can I have some milk, please?
Me: Yes. Thank you for asking for milk so nicely. It's easy for me to know what you want when you use your words like that. [I get her milk.]
Charlotte: Thank you. [I shit you not.]
Me: You're welcome, sweetie.
[Daddy arrives home.]
Charlotte: Daddy, I'm eating a cheese muffin with Mommy!
Me: [meaningfully, tone aimed at Daddy] Daddy, Charlotte is using her fork, just like a big a girl.
Daddy: [catching on, thankfully] Good!
Charlotte: All done! [She takes her plate and puts it in the sink]
Me: [catching Daddy's eye] Thank you, Charlotte. That's really helpful to me when you put your dishes away by yourself.
Charlotte: [beaming, returns to her spot and starts talking to herself] Where does this go? Oh, right. [Takes her princess placemat and puts it in a drawer on the opposite side of the kitchen. We have never, ever witnessed her do this.]
Me: You also put away your placemat! Now your spot at the table is all clean. Thank you!

Obviously, there's a major cheese factor in talking to your kid like this, but the thing is, describing the specific things you like and why does seem to work and actually does appear to elicit MORE good behavior later on. Huh.

The book has a zillion other dos and don'ts, along with the reasoning behind them that I can't really cover in this review. And although the authors get a bit long-winded at times, and there's a huge gaping hole in what to freaking do if your kid is completely defiant in a situation, despite your newfound communication skills, this is a parenting book that actually can make you a better parent, not just a more paranoid parent. Recommended for those with kids.