My family recently spent the weekend with friends. One evening, right before bedtime, the kids announced they were starving. (Truly, is anyone ever as hungry or thirsty as a child at bedtime?)
When my son went to grab a snack, our friends reminded their son of their own family rule: no food after dinner. This particular blog isn’t about food philosophy — though I have plenty of thoughts there. What stayed with me was what happened later: after the kids went to bed, the adults came downstairs and had their own evening snack.
It made me think about how often we hold children to expectations we don’t consistently hold for ourselves—or even for other adults.
The Double Standard of “Right Now”
I see this in my own home when I find my son’s shoes in the middle of the floor. If I demand that he stop playing and put them away immediately, we almost always end up in a power struggle.
And yet, I would never walk up to my husband while he’s watching his favorite show and insist he pause it instantly to handle a forgotten task. I might ask, I might remind—but I would expect some transition.
So why do I expect something different from a child—whose brain is still wired for play, and whose capacity for task-switching is very much under construction?
Research on executive functioning reminds us that skills like shifting attention, planning, and inhibiting impulses develop gradually over childhood and adolescence. What looks like defiance is often a lag in these capacities, not a lack of willingness.
Compliance vs. Cooperation
When expectations outpace development, we set everyone up to fail. In those moments, we often trade cooperation for compliance—and even then, it’s usually short-lived.
When I notice myself getting rigid, I try to pause and ask: What am I actually trying to teach right now?
Am I teaching that mistakes must be corrected immediately, no matter the context? Or am I teaching how to care for belongings, contribute to shared spaces, and follow through on responsibilities?
That question shifts everything.
Instead of “comply now,” the focus becomes long-term skill building. It might sound like:
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The Transition: “Hey buddy, when you get to a stopping point in your game, those shoes need to go in the closet.”
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The Timer (Supporting Autonomy): “I see you’re really into this. Let’s set a timer—how many minutes do you need to finish this level?”
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The Reflection: “It seemed hard to stop playing today. What might make that easier tomorrow?”
The boundary doesn’t disappear—the shoes still get put away—but the emotional tone changes. And with it, the likelihood of cooperation.
The Role of Autonomy
Children aren’t just learning what to do—they’re learning how to experience themselves as agents in their own lives.
Decades of research in self-determination theory point to autonomy as a core psychological need, alongside competence and connection. When children feel a sense of choice and ownership, they are far more likely to internalize values and follow through over time.
When we consistently override a child’s focus with “do it now,” we may get short-term compliance, but we also risk sending the message that their internal experience doesn’t matter. Over time, that can lead either to resistance—or to disengagement.
Offering structure with choice—like timing, sequence, or collaboration—honors their autonomy without abandoning the boundary. In many ways, it invites them into the process rather than forcing them through it.
A More Honest Standard
The uncomfortable truth is that we don’t hold ourselves to these same expectations.
We snack after hours. We finish our show before doing the dishes. We ask for “five more minutes” when faced with something we don’t want to do.
When we zoom out, it becomes clear: the goal was never instant obedience. It was learning how to navigate responsibility within the flow of real life.
When we focus on the underlying lesson—responsibility, flexibility, planning ahead—rather than immediate compliance, we create the conditions for collaboration instead of conflict.
And in that shift—from control to coaching—is where the real growth happens.
For our kids, and for us.
