Why Does My Child Do That? Look Before You Judge
Before you decide why your child, partner or parent did something, separate what you saw from the story you told yourself. A small habit that may change the whole evening.
The short answer: before you decide why your child, your partner or your parent did something, write down what a camera would have seen, then the story you told yourself. Most evenings change when you keep the two apart.
I have a principle that sits under everything on this site. Understanding first is not delay. It is precision.
Most of us decide why someone did something before the thing has even finished happening. A glass falls at dinner, and before it reaches the floor a sentence has formed: He never listens. That sentence arrives fully dressed. It knows about yesterday and it predicts tomorrow. It feels like seeing.
It is not seeing. It is a story, and it arrived faster than the facts.
Go easy on yourself here. This is not a flaw in you. A tired mind fills gaps quickly. The trouble starts when the quick answer is the only one in the room.
Two things happen in the same second
When something goes wrong at home, two different things happen, and they feel like one.
What you saw. A glass. An elbow. Juice on the floor. A child who looked up and then away.
What you told yourself it means. Careless. Doing it on purpose. Testing me. Just like his father.
The first can be checked. The second can only be believed. Most of what hurts in family life lives in the second.
A child reaching across the table may be hungry, or rushed. A teenager who closes the door may be hiding something, or may simply need a room of his own. A partner who forgot the school form may not care, or may be carrying more than you can see.
And sometimes a glass is only a glass. I want to be honest about this. Not every behaviour carries a hidden message. A child sometimes screams because they want to scream. A teenager is sometimes angry because they want to be angry. Looking first does not mean inventing a deep reason for everything. It means not inventing the worst one.
Why the story matters
The story we choose decides what we do next. If the fall was carelessness, we lecture. If it was a test, we fight back. If it was hunger at the end of a long day, we pass the bread and put dinner fifteen minutes earlier tomorrow.
Same glass. Three different evenings.
Research points the same way. Children seem to mind a difference between themselves and a brother or sister less when they understand the reason for it (Kowal & Kramer 1997). With teenagers, one long study found that feeling one’s privacy invaded and arguing at home fed each other over time (Hawk and colleagues 2009). Each side was reacting to a story about the other.
Understanding is not excusing
A behaviour is not a human being. To look at what happened calmly is not to approve of it. Understanding can explain a fight. It never excuses hurting someone.
If someone is hurt or in danger, you act now. You say the clear rule tonight. Looking never waits in front of safety. What can wait is the bigger decision about what the pattern means, because that decision deserves more than one evening of evidence.
The question that comes before every other
When a parent brings me a problem, after “go easy on yourself”, I ask one question. Are you doing your role?
Not “Have you bought them everything?” But: Is the home calm enough after a long day? Do the adults agree in front of the children? Is there blame between husband and wife that the children are breathing in? Is one parent carrying everything while the other is absent, in body or in spirit?
Often, when we look first, the story about the child turns out to be partly a story about the home. That is not an accusation. It is good news. The home is something we can change.
A small practice: three lines
This is the method behind every tool on this site. It takes less than a minute.
- What I saw or heard. Only what a camera would record. “He reached across the table. The glass fell. He looked at me.”
- What I told myself. Write it honestly, even the unkind part. “He doesn’t care how tired I am.”
- What else it could be. At least one other possibility, including “nothing at all”. “He was hungry and rushing. Or it was just an accident.”
You are not choosing the right answer yet. You are making room for more than one.
Do this three evenings in a row. The stories begin to repeat, and so do the facts. Usually the facts repeat in a pattern the story never mentioned: the same hour, the same tiredness, the same moment when your eyes went to the phone or the stove.
What it gives you
It asks for one breath between seeing and deciding. Some evenings you will not manage it. That is fine. A habit is built from the times you remember, not undone by the times you forget.
What it gives is a different kind of authority at home. Not the authority of always being right about why, but of being the one who looks first. Children notice that. Partners notice it too.
Try it tonight
Choose one moment that annoys you. Only one. When it happens, do not correct it straight away. Take one slow breath, and in that breath ask silently: what did I actually see?
Later, when the house is quiet, write the three lines. Tomorrow, read them before dinner. You may find you already know the hour when the next glass will fall. Change begins there: not in a bigger reaction, but in an earlier one.
If you share the home with another adult, ask them to write the same three lines on the same evening, and compare at the weekend, in a closed room. Two people seeing one moment from two places often find a third thing neither saw alone.
Next step
Try it on one real evening. Every tool on this site starts with what you saw, not with what you think it means. Choose who you want to start with, answer a few calm questions, and get a 7-day sheet to print. Start the questions →
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