Jackson: The biggest lie in parenting isn't about the Tooth Fairy. It's the belief that you are responsible for your children's happiness and success. Today, we explore a book that argues this very idea is the source of most family conflict. Olivia: And that radical idea is the heart of Screamfree Parenting: The Revolutionary Approach to Raising Your Kids Without Losing Your Cool by Hal Edward Runkel. Jackson: Screamfree... I'm already intrigued. Who is this guy telling us to stop trying so hard? Olivia: He's a licensed marriage and family therapist who founded an entire organization around this idea. What's fascinating is that he developed this philosophy not just from his clinical work, but from his own chaotic, real-life parenting moments—one of which is a legendary story involving a Waffle House. Jackson: Okay, a therapist admitting he's not perfect? You have my attention. Let's start there. What is this core idea that parenting isn't about kids?

Olivia: It’s the foundational principle of the entire book. Runkel argues that our biggest enemy in parenting isn't a defiant toddler or a moody teenager. It's our own emotional reactivity. It’s that knee-jerk, anxiety-fueled response when things don't go our way. Jackson: That feeling when your blood pressure spikes because someone just spilled milk all over the floor you just cleaned. Olivia: Precisely. And Runkel illustrates this perfectly with his own story, which he calls the "Waffle House Meltdown." He and his wife, Jenny, decide to take their two very young kids, a four-year-old and a two-year-old, out for breakfast. They’re already tired, the kids are whining, and the first Waffle House they go to is packed. Jackson: Oh, I can already feel the tension building. This is a disaster movie in the making. Olivia: It is. They finally get a table at a second location. The kids get those paper Waffle House hats and some crayons. For a moment, there's a fragile peace. But then, two-year-old Brandon starts testing the limits. First, he throws his fork on the floor, getting stares from everyone. Runkel, the trained therapist, tries to handle it calmly. Jackson: Tries being the operative word. Olivia: Exactly. Then Brandon escalates. He picks up his waffle and threatens to throw it. And that's the moment Runkel loses it. He describes snatching his son out of the high chair, storming out of the restaurant, yelling at this tiny two-year-old in the parking lot, all while other customers are watching through the window. Jackson: Oh, the public shame. That’s the worst part. Olivia: But here's the kicker. He gets back to the table, fuming, and his wife Jenny just looks at him with this little smile and says, "You know you were wearing the paper hat the whole time, right?" Jackson: No! That’s incredible. A grown man, a therapist, having a full-blown tantrum in a Waffle House parking lot with a paper hat on his head. Olivia: And that was his epiphany. He realized he was trying to control his two-year-old's behavior, but he couldn't even control his own. He says, "Emotional reactivity is our worst enemy when it comes to having great relationships." The whole book is built on this one truth: you cannot be in charge if you are not under control. Jackson: Okay, but focusing on yourself feels so wrong. Isn't that the opposite of what good parents are supposed to do? It sounds… selfish. I mean, the book has faced some criticism for this very idea, that it goes against the grain of parental self-sacrifice. Olivia: I can see why it feels that way, and Runkel addresses this head-on. He uses the classic airplane safety announcement: you have to put on your own oxygen mask first before helping your child. If you're passed out from lack of oxygen, you're no good to anyone. Jackson: Right, I get the analogy. Olivia: It's the same emotionally. If you are a mess of anxiety and anger, you can't be the calm, steady presence your child needs. He makes a crucial distinction. You are not responsible for your children. You can't be. They are their own people who will make their own choices. But you are responsible to them. Jackson: Responsible to them. What's the difference? Olivia: You're responsible to them for how you behave, how you manage your emotions, and the kind of environment you create, regardless of how they are behaving. You control your side of the equation. By focusing on yourself—on calming yourself down—you actually become a more effective parent. You become a calming authority, not an anxious controller. Jackson: A calming authority. I like the sound of that. It sounds much more dignified than a guy in a paper hat yelling at a waffle. Olivia: Infinitely more dignified. And once you've got your own oxygen mask on, you stop trying to use brute force to get your kids to comply. You start practicing what Runkel calls "Judo Parenting."

Jackson: Judo Parenting. Okay, that sounds cool in theory, but what does it actually look like? I'm picturing flipping my kid over my shoulder when he refuses to put on his shoes. Olivia: (Laughs) Not quite, though some days it might be tempting. The principle of Judo is to use your opponent's momentum against them, rather than meeting their force with your own. In parenting, it means you stop resisting your child's will directly. You don't get into a tug-of-war. Jackson: Okay, but that sounds like giving in. Olivia: It’s not giving in. It’s redirecting. Let me give you an example from the book that makes it crystal clear. It's called "The Tights Triumph." A mother named Jill is dealing with her four-year-old daughter, who is having a meltdown trying to put on her tights. Jackson: A classic morning battle. I know it well. Olivia: The daughter is getting more and more frustrated, whining, "I can't do it!" Jill's first instinct, like any parent, is to jump in, to fix it for her. To say, "Here, let me do it." That's meeting force with force—you're taking over. Jackson: Right, and then the kid either gets angry that you're doing it for them, or they learn that whining gets them what they want. It's a lose-lose. Olivia: Exactly. But this time, Jill remembers the Judo Parenting concept. She stops. She looks at her daughter and says calmly, "Wow, that looks really hard. You're really struggling with those tights." She doesn't offer to help. She just acknowledges the feeling and the struggle. She creates space. Jackson: And what happens? Olivia: The daughter, surprised that she's not being rescued or lectured, keeps trying. She gets more frustrated, but her mom just stays there, a calm presence. After a few more minutes of wiggling and pulling, the daughter figures it out. She gets the tights on all by herself. And she is beaming with pride. The rest of their day was transformed because she started it with a feeling of competence, not defeat. Jackson: Wow. So she didn't threaten, didn't bribe, didn't even help? She just… waited? Olivia: She waited. She used her daughter's momentum—that powerful drive to "do it myself"—to achieve the goal. If she had fought it, it would have become a power struggle about Mom vs. Daughter. By stepping back, she let it remain a struggle of Daughter vs. Tights. And the daughter won. That’s Judo Parenting. Jackson: That’s a huge shift. It’s about letting them have their struggle. The book talks about this idea of creating "room" for kids, right? This sounds like a perfect example of that. Olivia: It is. Runkel says the battle over a messy room is never about the mess; it's a battle over space. Kids need physical and emotional space to figure out who they are, to make mistakes, and to learn. When we constantly invade their space with our anxiety—hovering over homework, dictating their feelings, fixing their problems—we rob them of the chance to develop their own sense of self. Jackson: We create these kids who are either totally rebellious or completely passive because they've never had a chance to direct their own lives. Olivia: Precisely. Runkel says we often parent like The Borg from Star Trek, trying to assimilate our children into our collective. "Resistance is futile," we think. But Judo Parenting flips that. Resistance is futile... your resistance to their will. It's far more powerful to go with it and guide it. Jackson: Okay, creating space and not fighting is one thing. But what about when the stakes are higher? When they break a real rule? You can't just 'Judo' your way out of that.

Olivia: That's a great question. And that’s where the third, and perhaps most difficult, principle comes in. That's when you have to let the consequences do the screaming. Jackson: Let the consequences do the screaming. Meaning, you don't have to? Olivia: You don't. Your job is to be the calm, empathetic guide while the real world teaches the lesson. And the book has one of the most powerful, gut-wrenching stories I've ever read in a parenting book to illustrate this. It’s about a single mom named Marianne and her 14-year-old daughter, Julia. Jackson: Uh oh. Fourteen. This is going to be intense. Olivia: It is. Their mornings are a constant battle. Julia stalls, Marianne nags and yells, and they both start the day angry. So, one day, Marianne decides to change her part of the pattern. She calmly tells Julia, "I am leaving for work in ten minutes. If you are ready, I will give you a ride. If not, you will have to walk to school." Jackson: A clear, calm boundary. I like it. Olivia: Julia, used to the old dance, doesn't take her seriously. She stalls. And ten minutes later, Marianne, with her heart in her throat, gets in her car and leaves. Without her daughter. Jackson: Whoa. That takes guts. Olivia: Julia has to walk to school and gets an unexcused absence. No big deal, right? Wrong. A few days later, Julia comes home in tears. It’s homecoming week, and the school has a rule: any student with an unexcused absence that week is not allowed to attend the homecoming dance. Jackson: Oh, no. For a 14-year-old, that is the end of the world. That's social death. Olivia: Absolute social death. Julia is hysterical. She's begging her mom, "Please, call the school! Tell them I was sick! You have to fix this!" Her older siblings even join in, pleading with their mom to just make the call. The pressure on Marianne is immense. Jackson: That is heart-wrenching. I'd feel like the worst parent in the world. My instinct would be to rescue her immediately. How do you stand your ground like that? Olivia: Marianne holds firm. She's empathetic. She says, "Oh, honey, that is devastating. I am so, so sorry this is happening. It must feel awful." She validates the feeling completely. But she refuses to call the school. She tells Julia, "I will not lie for you. This is the consequence of your choice to be late." Jackson: So Julia missed the dance? Olivia: She missed the dance. And it was painful for everyone. But Runkel's point is that the pain of that consequence taught Julia more about responsibility than a thousand lectures ever could. Marianne let the consequence do the screaming. Her job wasn't to punish, but to uphold the reality of the situation with love and support. Jackson: And to not make empty threats. When she said she was leaving in ten minutes, she actually meant it. Olivia: That’s the core of it. Runkel says empty threats are really broken promises. Every time you say, "If you do that one more time, we're leaving!" and then you don't leave, you teach your child that your words mean nothing. You break the promise of a consequence. Jackson: And you erode your own authority. Olivia: Completely. Integrity is everything. It's meaning what you say and saying what you mean. When you do that, you create a world of trust and security for your child, even when they're facing tough consequences. They know where they stand. They know you are a reliable, solid presence in their life.

Jackson: So it all comes back to the parent. It starts with you calming your own anxiety, like the Waffle House story. Then you use that calm to stop fighting and start guiding, like the Judo-style tights story. And finally, you have to have the integrity to trust the world to provide the lessons, like the homecoming dance. Olivia: That's the entire revolution in a nutshell. You become a leader in your family not by controlling everyone else, but by demonstrating profound self-control. You model the very behavior you want to see in your kids: responsibility, calmness, and integrity. Jackson: It's a huge shift from being the manager of your child's life to being the leader of your own. It's less about 'what do I do to them?' and more about 'who do I want to be?' Olivia: Exactly. And that's a journey. The book is very clear that this is a "practice," not a destination of perfection. You'll still have your Waffle House moments. But the goal is to make them the exception, not the rule. Jackson: It’s a really hopeful message, actually. It feels less overwhelming than trying to learn a million different discipline techniques for every possible situation. The answer is always the same: start with yourself. Olivia: It is. And it's a message that has resonated with so many parents who feel burned out by the pressure to be perfect. The book is highly rated, but more importantly, the reviews are filled with parents saying it gave them permission to be human and a clear path to becoming a calmer, more connected family. Jackson: I can see why. It feels like it gives you a compass instead of a thousand different maps. Olivia: That’s a perfect way to put it. So we’d love to hear from our listeners. What's one small situation this week where you could practice being a 'calming authority' instead of reacting? Maybe it's with a toddler and their tights, or a teenager and a curfew. Share your thoughts with the Aibrary community. Jackson: This is Aibrary, signing off.