Olivia: What if the two most common things we say to our kids—'Hurry up!' and 'Good job!'—are actually making our lives harder? Today, we're exploring a book that argues exactly that, and offers a radical, respectful alternative. Jackson: Wait, 'Good job' is bad now? I feel like that's ninety percent of my parenting vocabulary. The other ten percent is just me asking where my keys are. What's left? Olivia: It's not that it's 'bad,' but how we use it can be. That's what's so fascinating about the book we're diving into today: How to Talk So Little Kids Will Listen by Joanna Faber and Julie King. Jackson: Right, and Joanna Faber is the daughter of Adele Faber, who co-wrote the original 'parenting bible' that so many of us grew up with or had handed to us in a panic. So there's a real legacy here. Olivia: Exactly. And this book isn't just a rehash. It's built from years of their own workshops, specifically for that chaotic, wonderful, and often baffling two-to-seven-year-old age range. It's sold over half a million copies for a reason. Jackson: Because parents of two-to-seven-year-olds will buy literally anything that promises five more minutes of peace? Olivia: That, and because it tackles the moments that make parents want to pull their hair out. It starts with the most basic interaction: the simple act of giving an instruction.

Olivia: The authors start with a simple, almost funny observation about human nature. Joanna Faber tells this story about being at the library as an adult. She sees a stack of books on a cart with a big, imposing sign that reads, "DO NOT TOUCH THESE BOOKS." Jackson: Oh, I know where this is going. Olivia: She knows there's a good reason. They're probably not in the system yet. She's a rule-following adult. But she describes this irresistible, childish urge to just… reach out and touch them. And she does! She gives them a little tap and feels this spark of glee. Jackson: That’s hilarious and I totally get it. It’s the forbidden fruit. The big red button. But how does that connect to my toddler who's currently staging a sit-in because he refuses to put on his shoes? Olivia: Because it's the same psychological principle! A direct order, a command, triggers a part of our brain that wants to assert its autonomy. The book calls it 'the spirit of contradiction.' For little kids, whose main job is to figure out who they are and what they can control, that spirit is incredibly strong. Jackson: So 'Put on your shoes' is basically a declaration of war. Olivia: In a way, yes. It invites a power struggle. So instead of commands, they suggest a whole toolbox of alternatives. One of the biggest ones is to be playful. Jackson: Okay, what does that look like in practice? Olivia: They share a story from a dad named Michael whose daughter, Kara, hated getting dressed. It was a daily battle. So, he stopped being Dad and started being Roger Robot. He’d use a mechanical voice, "RO-GER RO-BOT WILL PUT-ON-YOUR-SOCK," with jerky movements. Or he'd be Kermit the Frog. His wife would be "Mrs. Meanie" or "Gentle Jennifer." Jackson: So I have to become a professional voice actor every morning? That sounds exhausting. Olivia: It can be! But the book's point is that it's often less exhausting than the twenty-minute meltdown that follows a command. And it's not the only tool. Another one, which is maybe less theatrical, is offering a choice. Jackson: I've heard of this one. Olivia: It's powerful. The choice isn't whether to put on shoes, but which shoes. 'Do you want to wear the red shoes or the blue shoes?' Or 'Do you want to hop to the door like a bunny or stomp like a dinosaur?' The task is non-negotiable, but you're giving them a sliver of control over how it gets done. Jackson: Ah, the illusion of control. I use that in my work meetings all the time. 'Do you want the bad news now, or in five minutes?' It’s surprisingly effective. Olivia: It works on all ages! Because it respects our need for autonomy. And that idea of respect is central to their next big idea, which is what to do when things really go off the rails.

Olivia: This is where the book gets a bit controversial for some readers, because it argues we should basically get rid of punishment. Jackson: Get rid of it entirely? No time-outs? No 'if you throw sand one more time, we're going home'? That feels like taking away a parent's entire defensive arsenal. Olivia: I know, it sounds radical. They tell the story of 'Buckaroo at the Park'—a kid running wild, bashing the stroller, shoving his sister at the top of the slide. The immediate parental instinct is to punish. Take away a treat, give a time-out, leave the park. Jackson: Right. A consequence for the action. Olivia: But the authors argue that from a child's point of view, a 'consequence' and a 'punishment' feel exactly the same. They just make the child feel angry, resentful, and focused on revenge or on how to not get caught next time. It doesn't actually teach them how to solve the problem. Jackson: Okay, so if you're not punishing, what are you doing? Just letting the chaos reign? Olivia: You're problem-solving. Collaboratively. They lay out a five-step method, and it’s brilliant. Let's use the 'Dirty Kid' story from the book. Joanna's son, Zach, hates having his hair washed. It's a nightly battle of screaming and fighting. Jackson: I think every parent just nodded in painful recognition. Olivia: So instead of forcing him, Joanna sits down with him when they're both calm. Step one: Acknowledge his feelings. She says something like, "You really hate getting water in your eyes. It feels awful and scary." Jackson: So you’re not dismissing his protest as just being difficult. Olivia: Exactly. You're validating his experience. Step two: Describe the problem from your perspective, without blame. "The problem is, your hair is full of sand and syrup, and it needs to be washed to stay healthy." Jackson: Okay, both sides have been heard. Olivia: Step three: Brainstorm solutions together. And this is the key part—you write down all the ideas, even the silly ones, without judgment. Jackson: What if the kid's ideas are ridiculous? Like, 'Let's never wash my hair again!' Olivia: You write it down! "Idea number one: Never wash hair again. Great idea!" It shows you're taking them seriously. Then you ask, "What else could we do?" In the story, Zach eventually suggests, "What about goggles?" Jackson: Goggles. It's so simple it's brilliant. Olivia: It is! So, step four is to decide on a solution together. They agree to try the goggles. And step five is to try it out. And it worked. The battle was over. The goal shifted from winning a fight to solving a shared problem. It's a fundamental change in approach. Jackson: That makes a lot of sense. You're moving from being an enforcer to being a teammate. Okay, so we've covered how to get cooperation and how to handle conflict. But what about when they do something great? That's where 'Good job!' comes in, right? You said at the start that was a problem.

Olivia: This might be the most surprising and powerful part of the book. The authors tell this incredible story about a boy at a music festival who is learning to juggle beanbags. He's completely absorbed, focused, and he's finally getting it. Jackson: I can picture it. That pure, un-self-conscious flow state. Olivia: Exactly. And a bystander, one of the authors in fact, sees him and exclaims, "Hey, look at that kid. He's really good!" And the moment the boy hears the praise, he startles, fumbles all the beanbags, and walks away. He just quits. Jackson: Whoa. The praise made him self-conscious and he choked. I've felt that. You're in the zone, someone comments on what you're doing, and suddenly you can't do it anymore. Olivia: Precisely. The authors, drawing on well-known research like Carol Dweck's work on mindset, argue that evaluative praise—phrases that judge a person, like 'You're so smart,' or 'You're a great artist'—can actually create anxiety. The child starts thinking, 'What if I'm not smart next time? What if my next drawing isn't great?' It puts pressure on them. Jackson: Okay, jargon alert. You said 'evaluative praise.' What's the alternative? Olivia: The alternative is 'descriptive praise.' Instead of judging the person, you simply describe what you see or what they did. Jackson: Give me an example. My kid brings me a drawing. My default is 'Wow, that's beautiful! Good job!' What do I say instead? Olivia: You become an art critic. You'd say, "I see you used so much red and purple in the sky! And look at these long, swirly lines you made for the grass. You filled the whole page." Jackson: So you're basically being a sports commentator for your kid's life. 'And he puts the block on the tower... a bold move! He's going for a third block... can he do it?! Yes!' Olivia: A witty sports commentator, yes! And think about the effect. When you say 'That's beautiful,' the conversation ends. When you say 'I see you used so much red,' the child looks back at their own work and thinks, 'Yeah, I did use a lot of red. I like red.' It allows the child to be the one to feel proud of their own work. It builds their internal validation, not a dependency on yours. Jackson: That’s a huge shift. It’s about noticing, not judging. Olivia: It's about holding up a mirror to show them their own strengths, so they can see them for themselves.

Jackson: So when you connect these three ideas—cooperation without commands, conflict resolution without punishment, and praise without judgment—it feels like a total paradigm shift. It's moving away from being a manager of your child's behavior to being a... collaborator in their life. Olivia: That's the perfect way to put it. The deep insight here is that these tools aren't just clever tricks to get kids to comply. They are methods for building a relationship based on mutual respect and trust. The authors believe that when a child feels heard, validated, and respected, their natural inclination is to cooperate. Jackson: And it teaches them the skills they'll need forever—how to solve problems, how to be resilient, how to value their own effort. It’s not just about surviving the toddler years; it's about setting a foundation for life. Olivia: Exactly. It's a long game. So, for our listeners, maybe the one thing to try this week is to catch yourself before you give a command. Instead of 'Put your shoes on,' try offering a choice or making the shoes talk. Just see what happens. Jackson: I'm going to try the descriptive praise. I'm genuinely curious to see how my daughter reacts if I just describe her block tower instead of calling it 'amazing.' I'll report back. Olivia: Let us know how it goes! We'd love to hear your stories and what you discover. Jackson: This is Aibrary, signing off.