Raising Made Simple

Here’s the scene from our kitchen last Tuesday: The 5-year-old is weeping because a blueberry “looked at her funny.” The 4-year-old insists socks are “too spicy.” The 11-year-old can’t find his math notebook, which is obviously the notebook stacked under the other notebooks. The 13-year-old would like to present a 14-minute TED Talk titled “Why My Tone Was Actually Helpful.” The 18-year-old is eating cereal like a philosopher. Meanwhile, I can feel my pulse in my ears. Ten seconds later I’ll either lead or join the chaos. Sound familiar? Staying calm isn’t about being a Zen master with unlimited time. It’s about learning a short sequence that helps you regulate fast, connect first, and guide behavior without turning into a human foghorn. This is the playbook our family uses with five kids and approximately one million socks. I’ll give you short scripts, practical tools, and a simple plan you can try tonight—even if your day’s been a ...

There are days when my parenting feels like a negotiation summit with snack breaks. Our 4-year-old objects to socks on ethical grounds, the 5-year-old cites her constitutional right to one more sip of water, the 11-year-old cross-examines his math homework, the 13-year-old delivers a TED Talk on fairness, and the 18-year-old eats cereal at 10 p.m. like a philosopher contemplating the void. Pushback happens because kids are human—developing control, testing boundaries, and short on frontal lobe. Our job is to help them steer, not to yank the wheel. This post is the calm-parent playbook I use at home: short scripts, simple routines, natural consequences, and fast repair. You’ll see exactly what to say in the moment, how to set up the environment so arguments don’t need to happen, and how to reconnect after a wobble so the lesson actually sticks. If evenings are your hot zone, my one-week plan Sleep Easy Kids give...

There’s a moment in every house—somewhere between “good morning, you” and “why is the dog wearing a backpack”—where the day either glides or derails. In our home, that moment used to be the dreaded transition from pajamas to car seat. Our 4-year-old staged sock protests, the 5-year-old ran hydration summits, our 11-year-old stared into his backpack like it was a portal, the 13-year-old argued the ethics of sock seams, and the 18-year-old made cereal as if he were auditioning for a cooking show filmed in slow motion. Meanwhile, I was narrating every step like a tour guide with a megaphone. The fix wasn’t more volume; it was more structure and a warmer start. What changed everything was building a predictable, short launch routine and using tiny, connection-first scripts that help kids move without turning us into human alarm clocks. Below is our complete playbook—tested on five kids—so you can go from pajamas to car seat without tears or nagging...

I used to treat “listening” like a rare meteorological event. If a child completed a task without me repeating it twelve times, I just stood there in awe—no idea what to do next. Meanwhile at our house: the 4-year-old gallops past in a tutu, the 5-year-old drafts a strongly worded letter to her oatmeal, the 11-year-old stares at his backpack as if it contains the meaning of life, the 13-year-old has notes on my tone, and the 18-year-old eats cereal at 10 p.m. like he’s contemplating philosophy. (He is.) What finally changed the vibe wasn’t a louder voice or a better lecture. It was learning to reinforce the moments I wanted more of—catching the first step, the quick transition, the quiet voice—so the behavior grew on its own. This post is the playbook we use for positive reinforcement across ages: what to notice, what to say, what to offer (that isn’t candy), and how to make it stick without turning your home into a sticker economy. ...

At 8:06 p.m. our home turns into a variety show. The 5-year-old performs pajama cartwheels. The 4-year-old petitions for “emergency water.” The 11-year-old remembers a science question that apparently woke up just now. The 13-year-old needs a two-minute download on seventh grade social economics. And the 18-year-old contemplates a bowl of cereal like a philosopher. We used to brace for impact. Now—on most nights—we land the plane with a calm, repeatable sequence that even our pajama acrobat can follow. This guide is the routine we use with five very different kids to make bedtime predictable, kind, and (dare I say) quick. I’ll give you the 6 steps, the exact scripts, and the tiny tweaks that turn “why won’t they go to sleep?!” into “oh… we’re actually doing this.” Want a plug-and-play plan with printable visuals and checklists? My one-week system Sleep Easy Kids walks you through the same steps we use at home....

It’s 7:12 a.m. in our house. The 4-year-old is wearing one sock and a cape. The 5-year-old is drafting a strongly worded letter to her oatmeal. The 11-year-old is staring into his backpack like it’s a portal. The 13-year-old is giving a closing argument about sock seams, and the 18-year-old is chewing cereal while contemplating life. Meanwhile, I’m doing an unhelpful chorus of: “Shoes! Teeth! Backpack! Shoes! Shoes!” (If nagging burned calories I’d be a marathoner.) Here’s the truth I learned the hard way: morning nagging doesn’t just feel bad—it backfires . It overloads kids’ working memory, creates a power struggle, and teaches everyone that movement only happens when a grown-up narrates every step. When we swapped nagging for a few predictable routines and short scripts, our mornings stopped sounding like a motivational speaker lost in a sock commercial. This post is your blueprint. Want the plug-and-play version with pr...

I once gave a speech so long about wet towels on the floor that I’m pretty sure it qualified as a short audiobook. Our 18-year-old listened politely, our 13-year-old took detailed notes for her future memoir, our 11-year-old stared at the towel as if considering its life choices, and our 5- and 4-year-old started a towel cape parade. Ten minutes later: same towel, wetter floor, grumpier dad. That was the night I officially broke up with punishment-as-default and started dating natural consequences . Natural consequences are the real-world outcomes that happen when a child’s choice bumps into reality. No shaming, no power struggles—just cause and effect with a side of empathy. When kids learn to connect their actions to outcomes, they build responsibility from the inside out. Think: the forgotten homework that stays home (for non-urgent items), the toy that gets left out and is “closed” for the afternoon, the sticky cup that sticks to the...

There was a season when bedtime at our house felt like negotiating a peace treaty while juggling snacks. The 4-year-old had a personal relationship with pajamas (complicated), the 5-year-old considered “one more drink of water” a human right, the 11-year-old remembered homework the moment his head touched the pillow, our 13-year-old needed a full Senate hearing on friendship politics, and the 18-year-old treated 9:45 p.m. like a sacred time to pour cereal in philosophical silence. We weren’t bad parents; we just had a bedtime system that depended on speeches instead of science. The shift came when we started rewarding the right stuff —small, specific behaviors that move the evening forward. That’s positive reinforcement. Not bribery. Not payoffs. Real reinforcement is planned, predictable, and fades out as the routine strengthens. Tonight I’ll show you exactly how we use it to lower the temperature, build momentum, and end the day with ...