Parenting in the Negotiation Era
There is a very specific phase of parenting, starting in toddlerhood, where you realize you’re raising children who appear to be preparing for the bar exam. You are negotiating with them, constantly. It’s not typically big things, it is about snacks, timing, who responds at the 2am wake ups, and about why standing in traffic is, in fact, not an option. Some days it’s impressive, other days, it’s unsettling to realize you’re being emotionally outmaneuvered by someone who cannot tie their own shoes.
So instead of calling this “behavior” or “defiance,” I started paying attention to how these moments actually play out and what kind of negotiation is actually happening.
Exhibit A: Refusing the Premise Entirely
We were crossing the street at the crosswalk after dropping off my older daughter. Halfway across, my three-year-old stopped, planted her feet and refused to move. Cars were waiting, drivers were staring and I could feel my face getting hot.
“Come on, sweetie. We’ve got to keep walking.” No movement.
“Honey, we can’t stand in the street. People are waiting.” Still nothing.
“We have to get across. It’s not safe to stop here. Do you understand? We have to go so we can be safe.”
She looked me dead in the face and said: “I don’t want to understand,” and still did not move.
I stood there for a second, flustered, red-faced, fully aware of the audience, before picking her up and carrying her across while she screamed. Cue embarrassment. We didn’t stand in the street. Everyone was safe. The boundary held.
And here’s the thing, this was negotiation. Not the collaborative, let’s-talk-it-through kind. The testing-the-premise kind. At three, negotiation often looks like this:
What happens if I refuse the rules themselves?
Exhibit B: Financial Manipulation (Age 7 Edition)
My seven-year-old is very into makeup, I am… not. My routine is foundation, a little mascara, and we move on with our lives. She, on the other hand, has questions about winged eyeliner, which I did not know was a thing, how to do, or why it apparently requires multiple tools.
Over time, my already limited makeup supply started disappearing. I’d find it in the girls’ bathroom, their bedroom or anywhere but my bathroom. Not the foundation, for some reason that stays untouched, but my mascara, eyeshadow, and hair spray all disappear. Oh and god forbid I buy any kind of chapstick or lipstick, that vanishes at an impressive rate.
For context: in our house, we’ve always said makeup makes us fancy, not beautiful. That’s not a moment specific lecture, it’s a value we’ve talked about for a long time because I want my girls to be comfortable in their own skin.
So when I finally said, calmly and practically:
“You’re seven. You don’t need makeup. And also, I’m getting a lockbox because mine keeps disappearing.”
She thought for a moment and said:
“Well… if I had my own makeup, I wouldn’t have to take yours.”
Which:
did not challenge the value
did not argue whether she needed makeup
but did present a logical solution to the supply problem
Touché, tiny human.
The rule wasn’t rejected. The reasoning was rerouted.
Exhibit C: Field Research (Cheer Competition Edition)
Just in case I thought this was a my kid thing, it is not. At a cheer competition this weekend, I overheard another child carefully choosing which lovie she wanted to buy. She selected the more expensive option and explained, very reasonably, that since it came with two, her sister could also get one.
Her dad casually added that he is out negotiated by tiny people on a regular basis.
Problem solved. Shared benefit. Sound financial logic. And yes, she did, in fact, get the lovie because she argued her case well and promised to do more chores this weekend. I would be very interested to know how that follow-through goes. I felt oddly comforted knowing this behavior is happening everywhere.
So What’s Actually Going On Here?
Kids are wired to test autonomy, power, and influence. They are constantly asking: Can I move the needle? Does my voice matter? Negotiation is one of the safest ways they explore that. So when a child says, “I don’t want to understand,” what they’re often saying is:
I don’t have access to logic right now but I still want agency. Relatable.
Where I Get Stuck (And What Actually Helps)
This is where a lot of parenting advice starts to lose me. Because somewhere along the way, we were told that if we just explain the feelings well enough,” “I hear you don’t want to cross the street right now,” everything will soften.
And sometimes… that makes me cringe.
Not because feelings don’t matter. They do. but because too often, we end up explaining and explaining and explaining and somewhere in the process, the boundary disappears. The feelings start running the show and standing in the middle of a crosswalk with cars waiting is not a moment where feelings get to overtake safety.
That’s not a processing window. That’s not a debate. That’s a moment that requires movement, safety, and someone willing to hold the line. So when validation didn’t work there, it wasn’t because validation is bad. It’s because the boundary mattered more than the explanation. What mattered most in that moment was responding to the situation in front of me.
So here’s what that looks like for me in real life; not as a formula, but as a posture:
I don’t over-explain when emotions are high. The boundary stays clear, even if the feelings are loud.
I stay close and calm, even if they’re upset. I don’t need them to calm down before I lead.
I don’t negotiate the boundary once it’s set. The feelings are welcome, the rule stays put.
That doesn’t mean I’m ignoring my child. It means I’m making sure the feelings don’t replace the boundary.
What Actually Matters in the Moment
I think this is what gets lost when we talk about negotiation, boundaries, and validation like they’re separate things. They’re not.
Kids negotiate because they want agency, they push boundaries because they’re figuring out where the edges are, they want to be understood, and they also want to know someone is paying attention and in charge. Sometimes showing up looks like sitting on the floor and naming feelings. Sometimes it looks like carrying a screaming child across the street and talking about it later. Both count.
Holding the line in a hard moment doesn’t erase connection. It makes repair possible. And over time, repair is what teaches kids they can be upset, heard, and safe all at once. Not everything has to be handled perfectly in real time, sometimes the job is just to get everyone through the moment and trust yourself enough to come back and make it right.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go referee a negotiation about snacks that somehow feels legally binding.
Cheering you on through the chaos,
-Kate, Messy but Managed
Tell me in the comments: What is your negotiation story?