When my children were babies, I talked with them as if they were adults. All the time about everything.  “Now I’m going to give you a bath.” Or “This is your clean diaper.” I spoke to my children just like my parents talked to me, my brother and sisters.

I did this in spite of my two, not one, but two college classes in child development. I did not think about it or have any strategy. I did what most of us do with our children. I did what I knew. And what I knew was what I had experienced as a child.

When my youngest was six, he turned into a wild self-willed child. It was excruciating. Trouble at school, fighting, bullying, stealing, and breaking every rule in our family. Most difficult of all was his power play and complete rejection of my husband and me as his parents.

Most of the psychology books I’d read said it was all my fault. That there was something my husband or I had done to create this problem. Most of the authorities we encountered most assuredly believed that and made sure we knew it.

I couldn’t live with that guilt nor did I think that personal navel-gazing was a good idea. That took time away from my child’s problem and offered nothing productive. Instead, I reached back inside myself for solutions.

What I knew from my parents was not at all helpful. They were problematic and dysfunctional with serious problems of their own. Discipline was inconsistent and emotional with no relation to the problem. Inconsistency, selfishness, and drama were no solution.

What I knew as a special education teacher, however, was spot on. One summer I worked in an institution for teens who were emotionally and behaviorally troubled. Troubled enough to be removed from their homes and placed there.

I know that “time out” is now frowned upon. And honestly, the old form of isolating timeout where no one talks to your child probably isn’t all that helpful. It’s a punishment with no strategies for growth.

But this institution creatively used time out uniquely. Instead of quiet time, an acting out teen would meet with staff to discuss what happened and what they could to improve their behavior. Okay, first they had to stop acting out and be physically safe enough to have a conversation. Then there was a form the teenager had to complete before they could return to class.  

I thought about their format long and hard. My child's potential future terrified me. I didn’t want him to need such a facility no matter how good it was. I wanted him to grow and become the rich, full person he was inside. And his behavior was bringing him into serious conflict with others.

I brought the form home and changed it. I changed it to fit our circumstances and what I thought was important. He was 6 years old. He couldn’t fill out a form nor could he communicate on a teenaged level.

So I adapted it to his intellectual and language developmental levels. We drew pictures instead of writing words. We spoke at his language level. And we addressed what happened.  

Working through this outline with my child took a lot of time. Parent and child conversations. We had to find the words to communicate right and wrong, feelings, thoughts, motivations, and create practical coping strategies. Ideas that fit his environment of neighborhood, school,  personality, wants and needs. The way he lived in the world.

I think the ideas I’d like you to take away from this writing are: Talking to your child on their skill and developmental level, listening and attempting to understand them, and offering them the time and space to find the answers to their dilemmas themselves with your help.

In next week’s column, I’ll show you the form I created and explain all six stages to problem-solving with your children.