It all starts with the blue sock—that dreadful sock that the five-year-old firmly and loudly refuses to put on. “But what’s wrong with it? Is it too tight?” “No! I don’t like it!” “But you can’t go without socks, just put this one on.” “I DON’T WANT TO!” These infamous words bring the scene to a close in tears. Only the child allows himself to cry, even though the parent could do with such an outlet too.
In the silence of the car after dropping the child off at kindergarten, the parent is caught up in a whirlwind of questions: “Where did I go wrong? Was I too lenient? Was I inconsistent? Should I have set limits sooner? Or is there something wrong with the child? He was so disobedient…”
However, research and clinical practice focusing on children’s emotional and behavioural development suggest a more nuanced explanation. Such an episode does not necessarily mean that the parent has done something wrong or that there is anything wrong with the child. Sometimes, what an adult interprets as defiance is simply a child’s natural reaction when feelings of haste, change, discomfort, or frustration are too intense for them to cope with at that moment.
Research into self-regulation and executive functions shows that children do not always manage to control their impulses, switch easily from one task to another, or regulate their emotions, especially when they are tired, frustrated or rushed. Building on this idea, some clinical models view challenging behaviour not just in terms of willpower, but also in terms of the skills the child can use at that time. The American psychologist Ross Greene encapsulated this perspective in the now-famous phrase, “Children do well if they can.”
Distinguishing between “won’t” and “can’t yet” changes the way a parent handles such moments. Simply asking the child to obey or control themselves when that is precisely what is most difficult for them will achieve nothing other than repeating the same scenario morning after morning. However, if you understand what is overwhelming them and help them gradually to cope with similar situations, this can change not only those tense mornings, but also the way you navigate conflicts together.
The cycle we don’t see
However, there is an older explanation for why some conflicts end up repeating themselves almost identically. From the 1960s onwards, psychologist Gerald Patterson and his Oregon-based colleagues directly observed the day-to-day interactions between parents and children. They developed systems to carefully codify sequences of behaviours: what one person does, how the other responds, and how the confrontation develops. These observation methods formed the basis of the research programme that resulted in the Oregon model.
These observations led to the identification of what Patterson termed the coercive process: a pattern of escalation in which parents and children unwittingly reinforce each other’s undesirable behaviours.
We ask the child to do something. They resist, asserting their will. Exhausted, we give in: “All right, nevermind the sock.” In that moment, the protest has been validated as an effective method. In the next disagreement, the child will therefore reach the same level of intensity more quickly.
What’s harder for us as parents to see is that we are going through the same training, too. On the morning when we raise our voices and the child gives in, we learn that shouting works, too. It’s a two-way process: we shape each other’s reactions until they become increasingly intense, and we forget what we were trying to resolve, leaving only the question of who will give in first.
We can view spanking in the same way; in many households, the argument that “it didn’t kill anyone” is still used to justify the practice. A meta-analysis bringing together five decades of research and data on 160,927 children specifically examined the practice of spanking rather than severe forms of abuse. Of the 17 outcomes analysed, 13 were significantly associated with adverse effects, including increased aggression and mental health problems, poorer relationships with parents, and a higher risk of the punishment escalating into abuse. The other four outcomes, including immediate compliance, showed no significant associations.
Therefore, even the most frequently cited benefit—that a slap makes the child obey immediately—is not unequivocally supported by research. When viewed through Patterson’s lens, physical punishment is a form of escalation; it may end the confrontation at that moment, but it reinforces the idea that to make the other person give in, the intensity must be increased. However, increasing the intensity merely perpetuates the vicious cycle from which we are trying to break free.
However, if this cycle is learned together, it can also be unlearned together. Change can begin with a very small, practical detail: the way we ask our child to do something.
The grammar of a request
Almost fifty years ago, psychologists Rex Forehand and Robert McMahon categorised the requests that parents make of their children. An “alpha” command is specific and brief, giving the child a real chance to comply: “Please put on your blue sock.” A “beta” command, on the other hand, is vague and often comes with a mini-lecture: “Why haven’t you got dressed yet? This is the third time I’ve told you!” Beta commands most often result in non-compliance.
While filming ordinary families, researchers observed another relevant pattern that is often unrecognised by parents: mothers interrupt their child’s compliance in around 35 per cent of cases. In other words, even though the child has started to obey, the impatient parent cuts them off without giving them enough time to finish the task. Therefore, in one third of conflict situations, the child is not to blame for the failure to cooperate; rather, it is the parent who cuts short the negotiation just seconds before it is successfully concluded. At the same time, research shows that, even in families without clinical problems, children fail to comply with around a third of the requests made to them.
In the observation system used by Parent-Child Interaction Therapy (PCIT), one of the most well-documented interventions for oppositional behaviour, the child is given five seconds to respond to a request. However, on a morning when every second feels like it has been wasted, this silence can be the hardest part. One solution would be to start activities earlier and allow for moments of defiance in our planning.
Another strength of an effective request is sometimes including a small choice whilst maintaining a clear boundary. Rather than asking “Are you going to get dressed or not?” for example, we could ask “Shall we start with the left foot or the right?” This gives the child a real, albeit limited, sense of control. The request remains, but the child no longer feels that refusal is the only thing they can control.
An effective request involves giving the child a single task in a single sentence, followed by a pause of a few seconds, which leaves room for a response: “Put your sock on, please.” Say it without adding an explanation about how late it is, the reproach that you’ve already told them three times, or a second request before they’ve carried out the first.
However, clearly phrasing the request is only half the equation. The other half begins the moment the child cooperates, a moment which, because it is silent, is easily overlooked.
PCIT distinguishes between non-specific praise (“Well done”, “Great”) and specific praise (“Thank you for putting your sock on when I asked you to”). Non-specific praise tells the child that we are pleased, but specific praise shows them exactly what they did well and what behaviour they can repeat. For this reason, specific praise is one of the core techniques of the intervention.
Furthermore, if we count how many times we correct a child in a day compared to how many times we tell them, with the same precision, what they did well, most of us will notice an imbalance. Protest mobilises us immediately: we turn towards the child, explain, negotiate, and raise our voices. Cooperation, on the other hand, allows us to carry on with our work unhindered. A child who realises that they get the most attention when they resist will learn to repeat the behaviours we wish to eliminate because they seem to guarantee our attention.
Of course, there will also be times when the request is clear and sufficient time has been given to respond, yet the child remains defiant. Not every “no” calls for the same solution. A frightened, exhausted, or overwhelmed child needs, above all else, to be helped to calm down. Even when the protest seems like an attempt to get our attention, the need for closeness can be very real. However, we must take care to ensure that refusal and escalation do not become the only times when the child has our undivided attention.
If we can remain calm and available without prolonging the dispute, then once the tension has eased, we can naturally resume contact. This is the “time-out” recommended by specialists, which is similar to, but not the same as, the dramatic “exile” of the “Go to your room and stay there until you realise what you’ve done wrong” variety. In a healthy time-out, the parent does not withdraw from the relationship, but simply stops any interaction that would only serve to fuel the confrontation.
However, the simplicity of the method is deceptive. A study of 401 parents of children aged between 15 months and 10 years found that 76.8 per cent said they used such a time-out. However, of these, nearly 85 per cent were applying it in at least one way that ran counter to research-supported recommendations: they gave too many warnings, continued the discussion, allowed access to interesting things, or used the time-out in contexts where it was unlikely to help.
One hour less, three nights in a row
There are also mundane factors that need to be considered before drawing conclusions about a child’s character. Perhaps the most important of these is sleep quality. Around half of children with oppositional defiant disorder also experience sleep difficulties, and this relationship works both ways: poor sleep can lead to challenging behaviour, and the strict discipline prompted by this behaviour can further disrupt sleep.
Studies have shown that missing just one hour of sleep per night for three nights in a row causes measurable impairments in the functioning of school-age children.
The other side
Everything I have described so far concerns the child from our perspective as adults. But how do things look from the child’s perspective? A five- or six-year-old who is constantly defiant lives day in, day out in an atmosphere where they are constantly being told off: “Not like that”, “Hurry up”, “Come on now”. These words can feel like relentless criticism or declarations of non-compliance, coming from the only two people whose opinion really matters to them. If the child lacks the vocabulary to say “I’m feeling overwhelmed, give me a minute,” as Greene suggests, it is possible that what seems to us to be deliberate defiance is actually the only form of expression they have left.
Often, behaviour that we perceive as an attack will trigger a defensive reaction on our part. However, if we perceive it as a warning sign, a signal that our child needs something, we will respond with greater curiosity and attention. Only this second reaction can break us out of the vicious circle.
While we’re reflecting on our own behaviour, it’s also important to bear in mind that parental exhaustion and depression are documented risk factors for oppositional behaviour in children. We talk a lot about a child’s self-regulation, but an adult’s capacity for it can also be depleted. Nobody can give what they no longer have. If we have the strength for just one thing, it must be to take care of ourselves first. We must put on our own oxygen mask first so that we can help those around us, too.
But what should we do after we’ve made a mistake?
Note the the phrasing of the above question: after we’ve made a mistake, not if we’ve made a mistake. A parent’s mistake, just like a child’s, is inevitable. However, if we and our children grow from that mistake, it is no longer a mistake, but a step forward.
Through the famous “still face” experiment, in which a mother suspends her reactions to her child for a few minutes, and the subsequent research, psychologist Edward Tronick demonstrated that healthy relationships are not devoid of tension, but are characterised by the ability of parent and child to reconnect afterwards.
The five minutes after I shouted are more important than the five seconds during which I shouted. “I raised my voice. It wasn’t right of me to shout at you. I’m sorry. The rule still stands, but my tone wasn’t right.” A few simple sentences can transform a mistake into a valuable life lesson: the people we love are fallible, they may have reasons to ask for our forgiveness, and we don’t have to be perfect to be trustworthy.
Beyond what we can fix on our own
Sometimes, adjusting the way we phrase our requests or respond to conflict is not enough. For families who need more support, there are comprehensive therapeutic programmes available. However, we must be aware that these programmes are based on different principles regarding the child’s behaviour. While they do overlap in some areas, they do not explain the problem or propose solutions in the same way.
As previously mentioned, PCIT belongs to an older tradition with behavioural roots. This type of therapy usually involves 12–20 sessions, during which a therapist listens to our interactions with the child from an adjoining room via headphones and suggests what to say in real time. PCIT forms part of a wider family of programmes generically known as Parent Management Training, which also includes the Incredible Years programme, among others. All of these programmes are based, in one form or another, on Patterson’s central idea that behaviour changes through consistent consequences; that is to say, we give attention to what we want to see repeated, and we withdraw attention or take a calming break in response to what we do not want to see repeated.
Collaborative & Proactive Solutions (CPS), the programme developed by Ross Greene and cited at the beginning of this text, starts from a different—and sometimes even opposite—premise. His organisation openly states that it does not support models based on consequences imposed by adults to encourage adaptive behaviour in children. Rather than reinforcing good behaviour and minimising attention to bad behaviour, Greene’s approach is to work with the child outside of crisis moments to resolve the specific problem underlying the repeated outbursts. This is based on the premise that if we offer the child the right choice, they will choose it.
Which of these approaches is correct? Research has not definitively settled the dispute, and the practical reality is probably more complex than either side would like. PCIT is designed strictly for very young children, for whom a clear and predictable structure is extremely important, while CPS is designed to cover older children, up to adolescence, and situations where years of well-applied rewards and consequences have made no difference—a sign that the real issue was not a lack of motivation, but a lack of skill. A good clinician will not adhere blindly to a single school of thought, but will choose the approach that is best for the child in front of them.
It is good for us as parents to know that, although psychiatrists may prescribe medication for disorders associated with oppositional behaviour, such as anxiety, attention deficit, or severe agitation, medication is never the first recommended option in response to challenging behaviour.
If the pattern of anger and defiance has lasted for more than six months, is directed at any adult and has perhaps begun to affect the child’s friendships with their peers, it is worth discussing the matter with a specialist to discover the underlying cause of the difficult behaviour.
Of course, at 7.52am, standing next to a blue sock in the hallway when none of this is helping the child get dressed, we’ll feel like the worst parents on earth. But, let’s take another deep breath, give ourselves a five-second break and, if we can’t hear the voices of our own parents, imagine hearing the voice of our Father in Heaven praising us: “You’re a good parent, even if it’s hard for you right now. You can handle even the hard things! I have faith in you!”