In October 2024, my husband and I welcomed our first child into the world. I took a six-month maternity leave, which was provided through my senior user experience researcher job at Microsoft. During that time, I decided to turn it into a more extended career break. I resigned from my position, and my employment formally ended a few months later.
When a young child pulls their hair, picks their skin, or bites their nails to the point of injury, it's natural for the adults in their lives to want to focus on stopping the behavior. Parents want to prevent their child from experiencing harm, and clinicians want to help the child gain control and relieve their parents of worry. But with body-focused repetitive behaviors (BFRBs), especially in young children, control is rarely the place to start.
Let's talk about meltdowns and temper tantrums. Arms flailing, feet stomping, the full body drop-to-the-ground moment. For toddlers, the image is all too familiar. For those of us who have older children, we take a sigh. But are tantrums just for toddlers? No, they aren't. The tantrum meltdown isn't just for kids. It's also an experience many teens, young adults, and adults experience on the regular. They just look a little different now. Let me explain.
But what happens when the parent is the source of the fear? That's the paradox at the heart of disorganized attachment. The very person who should be a safe harbor becomes, unpredictably, a source of alarm. For example, a mother lost in her own grief for years, staring through her infant with a trance-like look. Or a father, struggling with depression, jerks away when his toddler reaches for a hug, because he has no energy for hugging.
Camilo grew up surrounded by adults, yet without a stable father. His mother moved from one relationship to another, each new man arriving with promises of permanence and leaving with silence. By the time Camilo reached adolescence, he had called five different men "father," and none of them stayed. What formed inside him was not only grief, but confusion about what authority, protection, and masculinity were supposed to look like.
Children can take Christmas far more seriously than we imagine. For adults, the "naughty or nice" idea is a throwaway line we can repeat without thinking. For a seven-year-old, however, it can feel like a contractual clause with terrifying consequences. I hear many parents, including one parent of a seven-year-old this year say their child is suddenly frightened that Santa won't come because they "haven't been good enough".
When your child hears 100 times a day, again and again and again, what they do well, what they do well becomes the memory that they have in their brain and body, and they do it more because they've had so many experiences of having it reinforced,
An 11-year-old girl described an experience online: "There's peer pressure to pretend it's funny. You feel uncomfortable on the inside, but pretend it's funny on the outside." Was she talking about a specific video? No. She was describing her relationship with violent content on social media. Content she encounters daily. Content the algorithms serve her whether she wants it or not.
Simon was recently walking through the park with his three-year-old daughter. Autumn had truly arrived, and brown leaves lay scattered across the ground beneath the bare trees. Simon's daughter saw a small boy playing among the leaves and ran over to see what he was doing. The two quickly formed an unspoken bond as they joined forces, collecting the discarded leaves into piles. If you have children, you are almost certainly familiar with this scene, or one like it. Children naturally want to understand what's happening around them, and that curiosity helps them to connect with anyone, or anything, that intrigues them. When there's something new and exciting to discover, social anxiety is easily forgotten. Connections are easily forged.
The kids do not believe me when I speak to them about current events or anything fact-based. When they ask an adult at large to spell something, and I reply, they check my response with another adult. I told one of them a medical fact, and they told me flatly that their parent was much, much smarter, and their parent said otherwise, so I must be wrong.
Play first stirs in the mutual, musical back-and-forth cooing of mother and infant. This proto-play practices attunement. Before we learn to talk, we learn to chortle and gurgle and babble and hum along. Psychoanalyst Erik Erikson noted that this pleasurable and surprising dialog "negotiates the first interpersonal encounters, the light of the eyes, the features of the face, and the sound of the name [as they each] become essential ingredients of a first recognition by the primal other."
I am a 44-year-old man, with a seven-year-old son. His mother and I are divorced, and I moved out when he was three. We share custody; he is with me three days/nights a week including part of the weekend. He is doing well at school and has varied interests. He is a very happy child and the most precious thing to me.
"My daughter's dad and I really pride ourselves in the fact that we have not fought in front of her since she was like six months old. She's almost five now, and we don't talk crap on the other parent in front of her," TikTok mom, angelehlers_, explained. "So, she has no idea why we wouldn't be friends, why we wouldn't all hang out. Like she just genuinely just thinks like we're all just like friends, like her best friends,"
Before I had kids, I was skeptical of kid-specific products. Why would kids need a special bowl or spoon when adults already have small versions of those things, I wondered. Why would kids need plastic, character-driven versions of a household item, like a broom - couldn't we just teach them to use the normal kind? But then, of course, I had kids and I understood. By creating kid-friendly versions of household items, we reach kids on their level.
The general attitude was, 'Well, what are you going to do? The technology is here to stay. This is the way the kids connect. You can't fight the future,' Haidt tells TODAY.com after his broadcast appearance on Sept. 11. He has been advocating for a play-based childhood rather than a phone-based one.
We've all heard it before: "You are the way you are because of your genes." And yes, biology does shape us. But it's not the entire story and definitely not the final one. Our genes don't hand us a fixed script. They just give us a rough draft, an opening scene, a few characters, and some possibilities. Then life shows up, changes the plot, adds new chapters, and helps us write something completely different.
Riding a bike as a kid wasn't just fun-it was independence. That feeling is one of the biggest reasons cycling became such an important part of my life. It gave me confidence. It gave me joy. And it taught me how to move through the world on my own terms. But I look around today, and I don't see nearly as many kids on bikes.
Ten is an age unlike any other. Childhood still lingers like a soft melody, yet the whispers of adolescence are beginning to stir. At ten, children live in a magical balance-half dreamer, half discoverer. They are bold, curious, and ready to stretch their wings, but they still find delight in wonder, play, and imagination. The toys we give a 10-year-old are more than gifts. They are tools of growth, bridges of connection, and vessels of joy. A toy at this age is not simply plastic and color-it is a spark that shapes confidence, creativity, and lifelong passions.
What would Mister Rogers say to kids in these strange, difficult, and uncertain times? It can be hard to grasp how a child's mind works: I'm often thrown by the way my 3-year-old makes logical leaps that are alternatingly brilliant and disjointed, with wild emotions, good and bad, clouding her perception of the world. It can be hard to know what to do with all those knotted feelings and ideas, especially in times of universal stress, with all normalcy temporarily knocked down by the coronavirus
