It's an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, just me and my 3-year-old. We had the playroom all to ourselves (which almost never happens!).
He's got his marble maze tower out. It’s the one where you snap plastic pieces together into these winding paths so a marble can drop, loop, and land somewhere at the bottom. Typically what tends to happen is either I, my husband or our two daughters build the tower for him and he gets to drop the marble in. Given his age, this has worked well for us.
On this day, I decide to switch things up. I get the base started with him, and then, piece by piece, I start handing it off. I subtly start to encourage HIM to build.
- "Which piece should come next?"
- "Ohh, that's a great one."
- “You’re putting the red pieces together slowly and carefully.”
I lean back but stay right across from him. I just stop building so I can observe and encourage him to trust his own ideas.
I watch him try new pathways. I watch him figure out, through trial and error, that if the marble goes here, it lands there. I watch him try to remember which piece goes where after it falls.
And then because these towers do this to every kid, every time, a piece won't fit.
He tries again. Still won't fit. His face changes. The huffing starts. Then a low "grrrr." Then a loud, "IT WON'T FIT!!!!!"
Every instinct in my body wants to reach over and just... fix it real quick. It would be so easy to fix it for him and stop the screaming almost instantly. It's hard to watch your kid struggle, especially when he's little and you're used to just making it work for him.
Instead, I say, "It won't fit… I wonder what we should do about that…"
He pauses. "I'm overwhelmed…"
I could've cried a little. He's three and just articulated his feelings in such a clear way. In a way that’s still hard for me to do as his mom sometimes.
Me: "Aww, you’re overwhelmed. What should we do?"
Him: "Will you help me?"
Me: "Of course! That's my boy. Good job asking for help when you got overwhelmed."
He takes one loud, deep breath. 😮💨
I help him get the piece to click and then I lean back again. A few pieces later, it falls apart, and we do the whole dance again: Me stepping in, me stepping back, him troubleshooting, me narrating: "Oop, it's too heavy, hm…" "I love that you added that piece. Great thinking." Over and over, until he finally loses interest and we move on to something else.
The next day, we did the same 1:1 play session, just different toys. This time, we’re sitting at the kitchen table with his kinetic sand and a toy tractor. It was the kind where a little plastic screwdriver actually screws and unscrews the parts. It’s great for working on fine motor skills but less great for a 3-year-old’s patience.
The next thing I know, he starts screaming because he can’t get the screw into this tractor.
"C'mon!!!!!! I'm mad!"
I’m sitting right next to him so I lean in and slow my voice all the way down.
"It's so frustrating when it's not working…"
I hold the tractor steady. I’m not doing it for him, just keeping it still enough so that his hands can do the work.
"Slow…"
He keeps at it. And then… click. It goes in.
"Yay! You did it," I say. "You got mad but you kept going. You didn't give up."
Phew. 😅
Here's what I want you to notice about both of these moments: I didn't manage a meltdown either time. I witnessed one.
This week inside TMP Times, we’ll talk about:
- The exact physical sequence I use in these moments including what to do with your hands, your voice, and your body, before you say a single word
- The phrases that keep your child in the driver's seat instead of rescuing them out of the moment (word for word, the ones I actually used)
- What NOT to say when your kid hits the wall. I’ll share the well-meaning phrases that quietly backfire
- Age-by-age adjustments for toddlers vs. preschoolers, plus a quick note for parents of older kids (6–10) on what shifts
Let’s dive in!
