Tag: resilient-kids

“Just One More…” — What Bedtime Battles Taught Me About the Stoic Virtue of Temperance

On By Ian ToalLeave a comment

When my son kept reaching for one more snack, one more story, one more show ( or at least the first 5 minutes to see what happens) — I realized the most loving thing I could do wasn’t saying yes, but holding the line with purpose, clarity, and care.

This is Part 4 of a four-part series on incorporating Stoic principles into my son’s and my life. Each post explores one of the core Stoic virtues, finishing with Temperance.

Temperance:

Desire always asks for more.
Temperance knows when enough is enough.

It always starts with a plea:

“Just one more…”

One more minute.
One more snack.
One more video.
One more chapter, even after we agreed it was the last.

My son says it almost without thinking.
But I hear it for what it is:
A test.
A request.
A reaching out for more —
and maybe a way to delay the next thing he doesn’t want to do.

And the truth is, sometimes I want to say yes. Because I’m tired. Because he’s cute. Because one more feels easier than a meltdown. And I don’t want some moments to end either. Sometimes I’d love to give in — to stretch bedtime a little longer, to enjoy just one more laugh or cuddle. But I’ve come to see that parenting isn’t only about the moment. It’s also about the bigger picture — about what’s healthiest and most meaningful for both of us in the long run.

And that is what Temperance asks of us.

It asks for steadiness, not surrender.
For clarity, not control.
It invites me to stay grounded — even when the easy answer is yes.

Not just for me. But also for him.

Temperance Means Holding the Line with Love

The Stoics saw Temperance not as denial, but as discipline with purpose.
It’s knowing what’s enough — and having the strength to stop there.

The nights, when I said no to a third snack, or paused the screen when the timer beeped, or held him while he cried because he didn’t get what he wanted — that was Temperance too.

Not because I was cold. But because I was clear. Because I was present. Because I wanted to teach him that limits are love, not punishment.

Because love isn’t always about saying yes — it’s about knowing when to say it’s been enough. It’s helping him feel safe in a world that doesn’t bend to every whim. It’s showing him that his needs matter more than his impulses. And that the people who care for him will guide him through disappointment, not avoid it.

A Bedtime Battle, A Bigger Lesson

Last week, he hit his limit. We were three requests past lights out. He had asked for another snack, another video, another glass of water, another everything. And when I gently said, “No more tonight, bud. It’s time to get to bed,” he broke.

Tears. Yelling. Arms crossed tight.
And then finally, climbing into my lap with his face buried in my shirt.

He didn’t need the snack.
Or the screen.
He needed me — to give him some limits and help him reset and get ready for bed.

So I held him.
Not to fix it.
Not to make it go away.
Just to let him know the boundary was still there—
and so was I.

That, too, is Temperance.

Begin With Purpose

Temperance isn’t about being strict for the sake of it.
It’s about starting the day with intention—
and ending it with care.

That means deciding throughout the day: What matters the most right now? And holding that line when things get loud, messy, and emotional.

Even when your kid says,
“Just one more…”

You breathe.
You hold the line.
You love them through it.

Because the world doesn’t need more indulgence. It needs more calm and rational moments. More clarity. More parents who are willing to begin with purpose.

Try This Tomorrow:

For You:
Pick one area where you often give in, out of exhaustion.
Decide ahead of time what “enough” looks like.
Stick to it, gently and without apology, throughout the day.

Together:
Let your child know the plan ahead of time: one show, one snack, one story.
Then offer something more lasting: a snuggle, a conversation, a moment of stillness.

Final Thought

Boundaries aren’t walls.
They’re garden fences,
built to protect what we love.

And inside those fences,
with presence and purpose,
nourishment grows.

Roots Before Wings: Helping Our Kids Build Resilience That Lasts a Lifetime

On By Ian ToalLeave a comment

By A Mindful Dad’s Life

The Quiet Lessons We Teach on Calm Days

Resilience isn’t built in the storm. It’s built on sunny days, in small, quiet moments when life feels easy and our kids feel safe.

Picture this: your child sits at the kitchen table stacking blocks, their tongue peeking out in deep concentration. The tower wobbles. It crashes. For a second, their eyes well up, frustration rising fast. And here’s the moment that matters: do we swoop in to rebuild the tower, or do we teach them how to take a breath and try again?

These everyday moments, when the stakes are low and the world feels safe, are where we lay the foundation for how our children handle life when it gets messy. The roots we plant today will help them to grow the wings they need tomorrow.

Why Resilience Matters

Life won’t always be kind to our kids. They’ll lose friends, miss shots, fail tests, get their hearts broken, and face disappointments we can’t shield them from.

We can’t promise to protect them from every storm, but we can teach them how to stand in the wind and the rain without breaking.

Resilience is more than “bouncing back.” It’s helping our kids understand what’s important, how to process their emotions, and take action even when life feels overwhelming. And the time to start isn’t when things are hard. It’s right now, when things are good.

1. Teach Perspective Before the Storm

Kids live in the moment, which can make small setbacks feel enormous. One of the greatest gifts we can give them is the ability to zoom out, to see that challenges are temporary and failures are part of growth.

  • Share your own stories of struggle and recovery. Let them hear how you failed, got frustrated, and figured it out anyway.
  • Use simple language: “This feels big now, but one day it won’t. You’ll get through this.”
  • Help them separate who they are from what happened. Missing a shot doesn’t mean they’re a bad athlete. Failing a test doesn’t mean they’re not smart.

Resilient kids see failure as information, not identity.

2. Help Them Name Their Feelings

Resilience isn’t about “toughening up”, it’s about emotional awareness. When kids can name what they’re feeling, they can manage it instead of being overwhelmed by it.

  • When your child is upset, ask, “What are you feeling right now?”
  • Validate their emotions instead of rushing to fix them: “I understand why you’re frustrated. That makes sense.”
  • Teach that feelings come and go like the weather. Sadness, anger, fear, none of them last forever.

When kids know that emotions are natural and temporary, they gain the confidence to work through them instead of avoiding them.

3. Celebrate Effort, Not Just Results

Resilience grows when kids learn that their worth isn’t tied to winning. By focusing on effort over outcome, we give them permission to keep trying even when things don’t work out.

  • Praise the process: “I’m proud of how hard you worked,” not just “I’m proud you won.”
  • Give them challenges slightly outside their comfort zone: fixing a toy, planning a family activity, or helping cook dinner.
  • When they succeed, focus on what they learned and how they felt along the way, not just the finish line.

Effort builds grit. Grit builds confidence. Confidence builds resilience.

4. Model What Moving Forward Looks Like

Our kids learn more from watching us than from listening to us. When we handle setbacks with patience, self-compassion, and problem-solving, we’re showing them the blueprint for resilience.

  • Talk out loud about your own challenges and how you approach them.
  • Admit when you make mistakes, and let them see you try again.
  • Show them that it’s okay to ask for help.

Resilience isn’t pretending to have it all together. It’s showing up, learning, and moving forward, even when it’s hard.

When the Hard Days Come

There will be moments when your child faces something you can’t fix. A friendship ends. A dream slips away. A door closes.

That’s when your groundwork matters most.

Because if they’ve practiced naming their feelings, shifting their perspective, and trusting their own ability to recover, they’ll already know what to do: breathe, feel, think, act.

And maybe they’ll even remember something you said in a quiet kitchen years ago:
“This hurts now. But you’re stronger than you think. And this is not the end of your story.”

And maybe in that moment, they’ll remember something you told them, and something you lived through. Because resilience isn’t just something we teach; it’s something we’ve had to earn ourselves.

Take time to share those moments with your child: the times you struggled, the times you stumbled, and the times you kept going. Let them hear how perspective, emotional honesty, and persistence helped you move forward. When they see that these lessons mattered in your life, they’ll carry them forward in their own.

Roots Before Wings

We give our kids roots: belonging, love, security. But we also give them wings: courage, grit, confidence, and hope.

One day, they’ll face a storm you can’t stand in for them. And they’ll rise, not because life got easier, but because you helped them practice being strong when life was calm.

Resilience isn’t built in the storm. It’s built in the sun. And it starts with us.

If this resonated with you, start today: notice the small moments, speak kindly through the little frustrations, and talk with your child about how they feel, even when everything’s going fine. Resilience begins when we choose to be present, not perfect.

When Tightening the Reins Backfires: A Mindful Dad Lesson

On By Ian ToalLeave a comment

“As soon as I tightened the reins because she had attitude, the attitude got worse.”

A fellow parent said this to me recently, and I couldn’t help but nod. I’ve been there. Honestly, I live there sometimes.

My first instinct, whenever my son pushes back, is to push harder. If he rolls his eyes or mutters something under his breath, my mind goes straight to “Oh no, we’re not doing this.” So I tighten the reins, stricter rules, sharper tone, less wiggle room. I want to make sure he knows I’m serious.

But you know what happens almost every time? His attitude gets worse. The tighter I pull, the harder he pulls back.

And when I step back and think about it, it makes perfect sense.

Why Tightening the Reins Doesn’t Work

Kids, like us, hate feeling controlled. When I tighten the rules without giving him room to breathe, I’m not just setting boundaries, I’m sending the message that I don’t trust him to manage himself. And that message, even if I don’t mean it that way, makes him want to fight back. I usually know when he feels controlled because his first response is to say, “That’s not fair.”

I get it, it’s human nature. We all want to feel heard, even when we’re wrong. And I think for dads, especially, there’s this pressure to be the enforcer. We’re supposed to keep things under control, to be the one who doesn’t bend. But I’m learning control and leadership aren’t the same thing, and my son doesn’t need a warden. He needs a guide.

What I’m Trying Instead

I’ve been experimenting with something different lately. Instead of going full drill-sergeant, I try to pause and ask myself:

  • “What’s behind this attitude? Is he frustrated, tired, embarrassed, or just trying to feel in control of something?
  • “What’s the real issue here, and what’s the outcome I want?”

Then, instead of just laying down the law, I give him choices within the boundary. For example:

  • Instead of: “You’re done with screens for the day, because you can’t talk to me like that.”
  • I’ll try: “You can take five minutes to cool off and then play, or we can turn the game off for the night. Which do you want to do?”

He doesn’t always like the options, but giving him a say changes the energy. He’s not being forced, he’s choosing. And sometimes, now that he’s getting a little older, he’ll offer up his own choice. When that happens, I stop and really listen, so he feels heard. I ask myself if his idea still fits the boundary, and if it does, I work it in so we both win.

Child psychologists say kids push back harder when they feel powerless—it’s a survival instinct. Giving choices, even small ones, tells their brain they’re safe, and they calm down faster. I’ve seen it happen in real-time; his shoulders relax, his voice softens, and we move forward instead of spiraling into a power struggle.

The Hardest Part (For Me, Anyway)

Here’s the truth: mindful parenting isn’t about being soft or letting things slide. It’s about letting go of my need to win every moment.

And that’s tough. Because when I’m tired or stressed, “winning” feels easier than connecting. Tightening the reins feels like control, but it’s usually just me reacting instead of teaching.

I’m learning that the more curious I am, the more patient I stay, the faster the attitude melts away. It’s not perfect. Sometimes I still snap, but on the days I manage to pause, we both end up calmer.

A Work in Progress

I’m not writing this as someone who has it all figured out. I still struggle. But every time I pause instead of pounce, I feel like I’m gaining something important, his trust.

And I keep reminding myself: I don’t want my son to just follow my rules. I want him to learn how to manage his own emotions, make good choices, and trust me enough to talk when things feel hard.

That doesn’t happen when I tighten the reins too hard. It happens when I guide, listen, and sometimes let go just enough for him to grow.

The real question I’m asking myself now is: Am I trying to raise an obedient kid or an emotionally intelligent one? Because the answer changes how I parent.

Your Turn

Have you ever had this happen, where tightening the reins just made things worse? What worked (or didn’t work) for you?

Parenting isn’t about perfection, it’s about showing up, time and again, and growing right alongside our kids.

Originally published on Medium