What to Say When Your Child Falls Apart Over a Tiny Mistake
The hardest part of a child upset over small mistakes is that you can't talk her out of it, and every parent I know tries anyway. We reach for the sentence that will make it stop. I had a whole shelf of them when I was teaching third grade, and I've added to it at home, because Lily is eight and can turn one crooked 7 into the end of the evening.
I'm not a counselor, so what follows is what I've watched work and what I've watched make things worse, usually because I did the second one first. And yes, I recognize it. I've recopied a recipe card from scratch over one crossed-out measurement.
Why is she crying over something so small?
It isn't small to her, which is the first thing I had to stop arguing with. When a child like this sees the error, her body behaves as if something is wrong with her and not with the paper. Her face goes hot and her breathing changes and the part of her that could listen to a reasonable explanation has left the room for a few minutes.
I've given every good explanation there is, standing over her at the kitchen table, and none of them landed because nobody was home to receive them.
That's most of what I know about this.
What I do in the moment
Mostly I stay put, on the floor or the arm of the couch. I talk quieter than seems necessary and I bring her a cup of water, because it gives her something to do with her hands and a reason to take a breath. The paper stays where it is. I don't offer a clean sheet and I say nothing about how nobody will ever see it.
If she wants to talk she says the thing herself, usually within a couple of minutes, something like "It's ruined" or "I'm so dumb." I answer the feeling and leave the verdict alone with "You really wanted that one to be right," because if I argue with "dumb" she'll only defend it.
The problem-solving comes after, sometimes not until the next day. Dr. Gottman's emotion coaching says much the same thing in more steps: the feeling gets named first and the fixing waits until the child is calm. When she is, I ask what she was afraid would happen, and the answers surprise me. Last spring it was that her teacher would think she hadn't been paying attention, which had nothing to do with the worksheet at all.
What I've stopped saying
"It's not a big deal." To her it is.
"Don't cry about it." I said this for years in the voice of someone being helpful, and I got it from my own mother, word for word. It turns a small sadness into a large one with shame on top.
"You're so smart, you know this." I meant it kindly. It also told her that smart means never wrong, which makes every wrong answer a statement about who she is.
"You'll get it next time." I'm slowest to give this one up. It promises a future I know nothing about to a girl who is hurting right now.
I still say "everyone makes mistakes." I just wait for a calm afternoon.
Does the gospel say anything useful here?
Some, though not for a child who is still sobbing, and I wrote a while ago about why Esther isn't a pep talk for eleven-year-olds, and a verse handed over mid-meltdown is the same mistake. This one is the one I come back to myself:
And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.
(Ether 12:27)
The Lord says he will show us our weakness. He doesn't say we'll be arranged to have none, and what comes right after is grace, which is a different thing from a better grade. Applying a verse about human weakness to a smudge is a stretch and I know it. But my children are going to learn what a mistake means from what the people they love do when they make one, and I'd like them to see me carry on.
Frequently Asked Questions
How do I know if it's perfectionism or just a bad day?
How often does it happen? One tearful afternoon after a long trip when nobody's bedtime made sense is a bad day. If it's most homework nights, or she avoids anything she might not be good at, I'd start paying attention. And if it's touching her sleep or her stomach, call the pediatrician.
Should I let her redo the whole thing if she wants to?
Once, yes. By the third restart I'd say we're finishing this one and looking at it in the morning. She'll be annoyed with me, and that's alright.
Is this a faith problem?
I don't think so, and I'd be careful about telling her it is. A girl who cries over a crooked 7 doesn't need to hear she lacks trust in the Lord. She needs to hear the feeling is allowed, and the rest can wait until she's calm.
What about when school starts and I can't be in the room?
Send the teacher a short note in the first week, something like "she gets very upset over errors and does best if you stay quiet and let her pick what to do next." Teachers like knowing, and most of them have a quiet way of handling it once they do. Mine did, back when I was the one reading those notes.
School starts Wednesday here, so on Monday I'm writing that note for Lily's teacher and putting it in her folder before she can read it over my shoulder and decide the whole subject needs a conversation.
with love, Melissa