Let me set the scene for you. It was time for my two-year-old son, Max, to take a nap. As I tried to scoop him up, he transformed into a tiny tornado of defiance. His body stiffened, arms flailing, as if he were a slippery fish trying to wiggle free from my grasp. I had seen this maneuver before, so I tightened my hold. In an act of pure toddler rebellion, he head-butted me right in the nose. The pain hit me like a freight train, making my eyes water and sparking a flurry of colorful stars in my vision. I set him down on my lap and insisted he apologize for hurting me.
Almost immediately, his tears dried up as he glanced around the room, avoiding eye contact. This was his way of signaling that a war of wills was about to unfold. I braced myself for battle.
I consider myself quite stubborn. At this point in the story, you might be inclined to judge my parenting approach. If you’re level-headed and adaptable, you might be raising an eyebrow, wondering how a mother and her child—who can barely tie their shoes—are about to engage in a showdown. But if you share my stubborn streak, you’re probably sitting up a little straighter, rooting for me to hold my ground. After all, we wouldn’t want to raise a generation that’s even more defiant than the millennials.
For those of us with stubborn children, like Max, this scenario can lead to a series of drawn-out standoffs. In the early days, I naively thought I could just outlast him. I’m the adult, and giving in wouldn’t teach him anything worthwhile. However, I quickly learned that toddlers are relentless. They have nothing but time and an impressive ability to focus on their mission: making their parents bend to their will. I sometimes find myself feeling a strange empathy for anyone who might oppose my son if he ever joins the military.
Being a stubborn parent often means we end up in more conflicts than we care to admit. But when your child arrives with an innate belief that every challenge is worth fighting over, it escalates the situation. The parenting journey is filled with opportunities for teaching moments, but stubborn kids often refuse to engage in these lessons. They’ll hold their breath and wait you out if they have to.
For instance, I have come to realize I’m a bit of a nuisance myself. Each time I call my friend to vent about Max’s latest attempts to drive me to distraction, she often bursts into laughter at my plight. Not the sweet, comforting kind, but the kind that says, “Oh, you’re finally starting to understand what I went through with you.” It’s a humbling realization that my stubbornness is now being reflected back at me.
I’ve learned to pick my battles wisely. There are countless potential confrontations, and if I let every little thing escalate, my day would be filled with endless standoffs. Reflecting on my own childhood, I remember my mother lamenting how nothing could make me do what I didn’t want. I took pride in that defiance, but as an adult, I can see how exhausting it must have been for her.
At two years old, Max is already showing his own stubborn spirit. If I tackle every minor issue as a battle, we would be engaged in more than just a few standoffs—there would be a time warp of epic proportions. I’ve realized that many things I once deemed “big issues” are now just small nuisances. I’ve narrowed down my list of significant matters to safety and kindness, which are non-negotiable. I can already foresee more battles about teaching him to say sorry. However, letting go of some of my own stubbornness has also sparked creativity. That day, I ended our standoff with a handshake, thanking him for giving me an “I’m sorry” handshake. He paused for a moment, then smiled and apologized before scampering off.
In the grand scheme of things, my “victory” that day was minor. I know he won’t necessarily be more inclined to apologize the next time he head-butts me. There’s no magic solution to change his stubborn nature. I can only hope to guide him towards understanding right from wrong, so he doesn’t grow up to be a jerk. Yet, I do appreciate that he has such a strong sense of self at such a young age. Perhaps this strong will will contribute to him growing into a resilient adult.
At the very least, I can outdo my own mother and wish my son two stubborn children of his own someday. When he inevitably calls me in frustration about a lengthy battle over something trivial, I’ll chuckle. We’ll both share a knowing look because, in that moment, the cycle of stubbornness will feel complete.
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Summary
Parenting a stubborn child while being one yourself can lead to intense standoffs, but it also fosters creativity and resilience. Learning to pick battles wisely is key, as is finding joy in the small victories. In the end, embracing this stubbornness may lead to stronger individuals and a deeper understanding of the parenting journey.