Good Inside: A Guide to Becoming the Parent You Want to Be

by Becky Kennedy

PNP Time only needs to last 10–15 minutes. The goal is to enter your child’s world—which is very different from the rest of a child’s day in which we, over and over, ask them to enter our world.

Give it a name to indicate that this time is special. I use the term PNP Time because I happen to love a good acronym and, also, there’s something a bit silly about the term that my kids really like. Feel free to name it something else, like Daddy-Marco Time or Mommy-Daughter time. Limit time to ten to fifteen minutes. No phones, no screens, no siblings, no distractions. Let your child pick the play. This is key. Allow your child to be in the spotlight; your job is only to notice, imitate, reflect, and describe what they’re doing.

For younger kids: “Let’s have some PNP Time! I’m going to put my phone in another room so I can really focus on being with you. It’ll be just us, and you can choose what we do!”

Fill-Up Game. Every time my son was difficult, instead of reacting, I’d take a deep breath and say, slowly and warmly, “I think you’re trying to tell me that you’re not filled up with Mommy.” My softening led to his softening, and he’d often reply by saying something like, “Yeah . . . I’m only up to here,” and point somewhere on his legs. Then I’d give him giant hugs and squeezes, over and over, until the “Mommy level” moved all the way up to the top of his head, at which point I would give him one more big squeeze so he had “a bit extra Mommy” to get him through the next little while. And did his behavior improve? No. Not right away. This “game” didn’t change things on a dime, but it was absolutely a turning point. It was the first step, because it made concrete exactly what my kid needed: more of his parent.

Tell your child, “I don’t think you are filled up with Mommy/Daddy right now. I think Mommy is only up to your ankles! Let’s fill you up!” Give your child a long tight squeeze. “How about now? Whaaaat? Only to your knees? Okay, round two . . .” Squeeze your child again; maybe grimace, as if you’re using all your might. “What? Only to your belly? I thought I got higher with that squeeze! Okay, more Mommy coming, round three . . .” Once you or your child feels filled up, give one more squeeze, saying: “Okay, well let me give you some extra, just in case. There are so many changes these days, it’s probably good to have some extra Mommy stored up in there.”

With emotional vaccination, we connect with our children before a big-feelings moment, thereby strengthening regulation skills before our child needs to use them. We connect with our kids, discuss and validate the challenge they might soon face, and verbalize or even rehearse how we might handle it—all before it happens. By connecting, validating, and anticipating, we build up our child’s “emotion regulation antibodies” before the full-force emotion arises. In this way, we are pre-regulating a feeling, and when the challenging moment comes, our child is more equipped to handle it. That doesn’t mean she will suddenly be a good sport when she loses at Sorry!, but as we all know, practice is key to progress.

And here’s another powerful takeaway: while our children can benefit from emotional vaccination, so can we. Visualize a situation that might be tough for you today. Now, direct inward caring, understanding, and allowing in advance: “I am allowed to feel this way. I am going to take a deep breath now, in anticipation . . . and maybe I’ll find that deep-breath-and-compassion circuit when the moment itself comes.” You’d be surprised how powerful it can be.

Emotional Vaccination to Prepare for the End of Screen Time Parent: “Before we begin screen time, let’s think about how it’s going to feel when we end. It’s hard to stop things we love, right? For me too.” Child: “Can you just turn the show on now?” Parent: “We will, soon. I’m going to take a deep breath now and get my body ready for when we stop watching screens.” Model this pause. “Also . . . I’m wondering if we can get out some of those end-of-screen-time protests now, to get our bodies ready.” Find a lighthearted, but not mocking, tone as you protest: “Five more minutes! My friends get so much more! I was just about to . . . please please . . . you never let me do anything I want to do!”

What are you doing here? You’re infusing connection and silliness into a difficult transition before it happens. This doesn’t mean that at the end of the show, your child will say, “Here’s the iPad, Mom, easy-breezy!”; it does mean that you’re building the skill of managing tough emotions, and there will be a moment soon that your child looks at you and says, “Aw, I wish I could watch another episode!” instead of screaming and throwing a remote control.

One thing we know about feelings is that they are only scary if we are alone with them. If someone says to us, “Hey! You’re feeling [sad/scared/angry/left out]. That’s okay. I’m here. Tell me more,” the feelings immediately start to subside. We no longer feel so overwhelmed. We feel safer. When kids are upset, it’s as if they are plopped down on the bench of that feeling. It may be an Angry Bench or Disappointed Bench or even a Nobody-Likes-Me Bench. And what kids (and also adults) want when they’re on a bench, especially the dark uncomfortable ones, is someone to sit with them. Once someone sits with us, the bench doesn’t feel so dark and cold. Now we have a “bench warmer.” When your son tells you, “I wish I didn’t have a younger brother, he’s always messing up my stuff!,” imagine that he’s on the It’s-Hard-to-Share-My-Life Bench. Sit with him. You might also need to set a boundary, but you can still sit: “Ah, you’re thinking about how hard it is to share. I get that, honey. I won’t let you hit; you can still feel all that anger. I’m here with you.”

And . . . try sitting with yourself on your bench. Find the part of you that is comforting (she’s there! Always!) and ask her to sit with the part of you that’s scared or sad or self-critical. Say to the part of you that’s feeling overwhelmed: “I’m here, overwhelmed feeling. I see you. I’ll listen to you. You’re a part of me, not all of me. I’ll sit with you.”

The next time your child tells you about a difficult feeling, remind yourself: “Sit with him. Sit down on this bench without making any attempt to pull him off. This is how I am building connection with him and resilience inside of him.” Show your child you are right there with him, rather than asking him to feel another way. Words “That sounds really hard.” “That stinks. It really does.” “I’m so glad you’re talking to me about this.” “I believe you.”

“Being a kid right now . . . ugh, it feels so so hard. I get that.” “You’re really sad about that. You’re allowed to be, sweetie.” “I’m right here with you. I’m so glad we’re together talking about this.” “Sometimes we don’t have a way to feel better right away. Sometimes when things feel tough, the best we can do is talk nicely to ourselves and talk to people who understand.” “I love you. I love you the same no matter how you’re feeling and no matter what is happening in your life.”