Olivia: Most parenting books are about fixing your kid. What if the best ones are about fixing yourself? We’re told to manage tantrums and teach discipline, but today we’re exploring a radical idea: your biggest parenting challenges might have almost nothing to do with your child. Jackson: That's a bold claim, Olivia. Are you telling me that when my nephew has a complete meltdown in the cereal aisle, it's secretly about my own unresolved issues with breakfast foods? Olivia: It might be less about the cereal and more about what his feelings of frustration are triggering in you. That's the core premise of The Book You Wish Your Parents Had Read (And Your Children Will Be Glad That You Did) by Philippa Perry. Jackson: Ah, I’ve heard of this one. It’s got a bit of a cult following, hasn't it? The title alone is a masterpiece of guilt and aspiration. Olivia: It really is. And it makes perfect sense coming from her. Perry isn't just a writer; she's a psychotherapist with over two decades of experience. She wrote this because she saw that what parents needed wasn't more 'tips and tricks,' but a way to understand their own emotional wiring. Jackson: So it’s less of a "how-to" manual for kids and more of a "what's-going-on" manual for parents. Olivia: Exactly. Perry argues that the most important thing we pass down isn't our genes, but our emotional habits. She calls it our 'Parenting Legacy.' It's the idea that we're often replaying scripts from our own childhood without even knowing it. Jackson: Okay, I'm intrigued and slightly terrified. Let's unpack this 'legacy.' Where do we even start?

Olivia: We start by acknowledging a difficult truth: our reactions to our children are rarely as pure as we think. They're often contaminated by our own past. Perry shares this incredible story in the book about a woman named Tay. Jackson: Lay it on me. Olivia: Tay is a senior psychotherapist. If anyone should be self-aware, it's her, right? She's at the park with her seven-year-old daughter, Emily, who's on a climbing frame. Emily gets a little scared and calls out, "Mummy, I can't get down, help me!" Jackson: Seems like a standard-issue park moment. Olivia: You'd think. But instead of feeling empathy, Tay is flooded with white-hot rage. She hears herself shouting, "For goodness’ sake, Emily, you are being ridiculous! Get down yourself!" She's furious. Emily eventually scrambles down, shaken, and tries to hold her mom's hand. Tay pulls her hand away. Jackson: Wow. That's... harsh. Especially from a therapist. What was going on there? Olivia: That's what Tay couldn't figure out. She felt awful about it for a week. Then, they're at the zoo, and Emily is hesitant to go on another climbing frame. This time, Tay is calm and encouraging. Emily makes it, and then she asks, "Mummy, why were you so cross with me at the park last week?" Jackson: A question from the mouths of babes. The direct hit. Olivia: Exactly. And in that moment, Tay has a flashback. She remembers her own childhood, being doted on by her Nana who treated her like a fragile princess, constantly telling her she couldn't do things, making her feel incapable. Her anger wasn't at Emily for being 'ridiculous.' It was a delayed, 30-year-old rage at her own Nana for making her feel helpless. Emily’s request for help just poked that old wound. Jackson: Whoa. So her daughter became a stand-in for her own childhood self, and she reacted like she wished someone had reacted to her? Like, 'toughen up'? Olivia: Precisely. She was replaying an old, painful script. And this is Perry's central point about our parenting legacy. We all carry these emotional ghosts. It's like that old saying, "I opened my mouth and my mother's words came out." This is the deep, emotional version of that. Our children, with their intense and unfiltered emotions, are experts at finding the hidden buttons connected to our deepest wounds. Jackson: That is both terrifying and, in a strange way, reassuring. It means it's not just me. Even a trained psychotherapist can get hijacked by their past. It makes these moments of parental failure feel a bit more... human. Olivia: That's the whole point! It’s not about blame. It’s about awareness. Perry tells another story about a man named Oskar who adopted an 18-month-old boy. He found himself filled with uncontrollable rage whenever his son would drop food on the floor. Jackson: Okay, toddlers dropping food is annoying, but rage seems like a strong reaction. Olivia: It was. In therapy, Perry asked him a simple question: "What would have happened to you as a child if you'd dropped food?" And Oskar remembered. His grandfather would rap his knuckles with a knife handle and send him from the room. The rage he felt wasn't about the mess his son was making; it was the re-experiencing of his own childhood humiliation and pain. Jackson: My goodness. He was feeling his own past trauma all over again, but directing it at his son. Olivia: Yes. And once he made that connection, he could find compassion for that little boy he once was. And that compassion for himself allowed him to find patience for his son. He separated the past from the present. Jackson: This is huge. It reframes everything. So if we're all walking around with these hidden emotional landmines from our past, destined to mess up and hurt the people we love most... what's the solution? Are we just supposed to feel guilty forever? Olivia: Ah, that is the perfect question, and it leads directly to Perry's most hopeful and practical idea. The goal isn't to be a perfect parent who never gets triggered. That's impossible. The magic is in what you do after you mess up.

Jackson: Okay, I'm ready for some hope. Don't leave me in the land of emotional landmines. Olivia: The hope lies in two words: Rupture and Repair. Perry argues that in any close relationship, especially with a child, there will be moments of disconnection, misunderstanding, or hurt. These are the "ruptures." Tay shouting at Emily was a rupture. Oskar’s rage was a rupture. They are inevitable. Jackson: Right, because we're human and we're flawed. Olivia: Exactly. But she has this quote that is the absolute heart of the book: "It is not the rupture that is so important, it is the repair that matters." The real work of parenting, the thing that builds a secure and loving bond, is the act of mending that connection. Jackson: So it's basically like in any adult relationship. If you mess up, you own it and you apologize. It's just that we often forget to apply that same level of respect to our children. Olivia: We do. And "repair" is more than just a quick "sorry." It's about validating the child's experience. It's returning to the situation and saying, "I was really angry earlier, and that must have felt scary for you. My anger was my own stuff, it wasn't your fault." That's what Tay did with Emily at the zoo. She repaired the rupture. Jackson: That takes a lot of humility. To admit to your child that you were wrong and that your emotions got the better of you. Olivia: It does, but Perry argues that children need us to be authentic, not perfect. Seeing a parent own a mistake and fix it is one of the most powerful lessons in emotional resilience you can ever teach. It shows them that relationships can withstand conflict and that love doesn't disappear when someone gets angry. Jackson: Okay, that makes sense for a big, obvious rupture like shouting at your kid. But what about the smaller, everyday stuff? The constant whining, the tantrums over nothing? How does 'repair' work there? Olivia: This is where the idea of validating feelings comes in. Perry tells this simple but brilliant story about a father named Dave and his daughter, Nova. Nova would have these epic tantrums whenever she didn't get her way, like not being able to sit in her favorite seat in the car. Jackson: I know that tantrum well. The car seat wars are real. Olivia: They are. And the typical parental response is to dismiss it, right? "Don't be silly, it's just a seat!" But Dave tried something different. One day, Nova's cousin was in 'her' seat, and the meltdown began. Instead of arguing, Dave knelt down, looked her in the eye, and said with genuine empathy, "You are really, really sad and cross that your cousin is in your seat. You love that seat, and you're so disappointed. I get it." Jackson: And what happened? Did she just magically stop crying? Olivia: Pretty much. He said she looked at him, surprised, her little face crumpled for a second, and then she just... stopped. She felt heard. The feeling was acknowledged. And once it was acknowledged, she didn't need to scream about it anymore. She happily climbed into another seat. Jackson: Huh. So you're not giving in to the demand, you're just validating the emotion behind it. You're separating the feeling from the behavior. Olivia: You've nailed it. You can say, "I see that you're incredibly angry that we have to leave the park," without saying, "Okay, we can stay for another hour." You're connecting with their inner world. Perry says we all want to be "felt with, not dealt with." By validating the feeling, you're telling your child, "I see you. Your feelings make sense, even if your behavior needs a boundary." Jackson: That's a really useful distinction. Because I think a lot of parents, myself included, worry that acknowledging the feeling is the same as condoning the behavior. There's this fear that if you show empathy for the tantrum, you're just encouraging more tantrums. Olivia: It's a common fear, but the psychology suggests the opposite is true. Unacknowledged feelings fester and grow bigger. They have to scream to be heard. Acknowledged feelings can be processed and released. It's like letting the air out of a balloon slowly instead of letting it pop. Jackson: It's about being an emotional container for them, not a judge. Olivia: That's the perfect word for it. Perry uses that exact term. Our job is to 'contain' their overwhelming emotions—to hold them, acknowledge them, and show our children that these big, scary feelings are manageable and won't destroy the relationship. Over time, they internalize that process and learn to do it for themselves. That's the foundation of good mental health.

Jackson: So, if I'm trying to wrap my head around this, the whole book really boils down to a two-step dance. First, you have to look inward to understand your own 'parenting legacy'—the emotional baggage that's making you react. Olivia: Right, you have to understand why you're being triggered. Jackson: And second, you have to look outward to connect with and repair your relationship with your child in the present moment. The focus is always on the relationship itself, not just the specific incident. Olivia: That's a perfect synthesis. It’s a shift from seeing behavior as something to be controlled, to seeing it as a form of communication. A tantrum isn't just bad behavior; it's a child communicating an overwhelming feeling they don't have the words for yet. Our job is to help them find the words. Jackson: And to show them that we're still there for them, even when they're a mess. And, more importantly, that we're still there for them even when we're a mess. Olivia: Exactly. Perry's ultimate message is that our children don't need us to be perfect. They need us to be real and authentic. The most important thing we can ever give them is a safe, loving, and accepting relationship. When a problem comes up, she says, don't just focus on the child. Look at what's happening between you. That's where the answer is. Jackson: It's a profound shift in perspective. It's harder in some ways, because it requires so much self-reflection, but it also feels more hopeful. It's not about a pass/fail test of parenting. It’s about the ongoing process of connection. Olivia: It is. And it makes you wonder, what's one small 'rupture' from this past week—a moment of impatience, a misunderstanding, a harsh word—that you could try to 'repair'? Jackson: That's a powerful question to end on. It’s not about grand gestures, but small, consistent acts of mending. We’d love to hear your thoughts on this. Join the conversation with the Aibrary community on our socials. What does 'repair' look like in your family? Olivia: This is Aibrary, signing off.