A story about when My kids Listen

kids not listening

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow through the kitchen window, I found myself once again locked in a silent battle of wills with my 7-year-old son, Jake. “It’s time for bed,” I repeated for what felt like the thousandth time, my voice a mixture of exhaustion and frustration. Jake, engrossed in his tablet, didn’t even flinch. It was as if my words were nothing more than a gentle breeze, barely registering in his world of flashing lights and cartoon characters. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and thought back to the parenting books stacked on my nightstand, their promises of harmony and cooperation now seeming like cruel jokes. This scene had become all too familiar in our household – my words evaporating into thin air while my children seemed to exist in a parallel universe, immune to the sound of my voice. As I stood there, contemplating my next move, a realization slowly dawned on me. Perhaps the issue wasn’t just Jake’s selective hearing, but my approach as well. I thought about the cacophony of stimuli competing for his attention daily – the TV blaring in the background, the constant pings from various devices, the allure of his toys scattered across the floor. In this sensory overload, my voice had become just another sound to filter out. With a newfound determination, I gently took the tablet from Jake’s hands, knelt down to his eye level, and softly said his name. For the first time that evening, his eyes met mine. In that moment of connection, I saw not defiance, but a child overwhelmed by the world around him. I realized that to be heard, I needed to cut through the noise, not add to it. As we began a new bedtime routine that night, one filled with quiet moments, gentle touches, and clear, calm instructions, I felt a shift. Jake’s resistance melted away, replaced by cooperation and even enthusiasm. This small victory opened my eyes to a new approach in parenting – one that prioritized connection over volume, understanding over frustration. From that night forward, our home began to transform. The constant repetition of instructions gave way to meaningful conversations, and the battle of wills evolved into a dance of mutual respect and understanding. It wasn’t an overnight change, but a gradual one, filled with moments of progress and occasional setbacks. Yet with each passing day, as I watched my children not just hear my words but truly listen, I knew we were on the right path. In the end, I realized that the key to being heard lay not in speaking louder, but in creating an environment where my children wanted to listen – a lesson that would reshape our family dynamics for years to come.


Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *