Consider these scenes with me…
The mother stands in the toy store, having agreed with her child from the start: "We'll only buy one toy today." But then he sees a toy he likes, asks for it, then insists, and then starts crying. His mother reminds him of the agreement, and he gets even angrier. She begins to hesitate: Am I being cruel? Why don't I just buy it and be done with it?
In another house, the father announces the end of screen time, and his child asks, "Just five minutes." He gives him five minutes, which then becomes ten, and the negotiations begin again.
Scenes that are repeated when sleeping, in the store, when leaving the park, and in front of sweets and electronic devices.
The problem is not that we don't know how to say "no," but that we are sometimes afraid of how the child will feel after we say it.
And most importantly: what happens to a child who rarely hears "no" and who only encounters frustration when adults rush to remove him from his path?
Modern education has revised many old practices based on fear, obedience, and harsh punishment, and this was necessary. It has modified our view of education, teaching us that children have feelings that must be understood and respected, and that humiliation and cruelty are not forms of education.
But the problem begins when we move from rejecting harshness to fearing firmness; we consider the child’s anger something that should be prevented, and his crying a sign of our failure, so we rush immediately to remove any frustration from his path, believing that our mercy for our son requires that we spare him all frustration.
In their book *The Coddling of the American Mind*, Jonathan Haidt and Greg Lukyanoff discuss how well-intentioned parents and an excessive desire to shield their children from pain can lead to increased psychological fragility. They explore the concept of antifragility, which posits that certain abilities do not develop through constant protection, but rather through appropriate exposure to challenges, difficulties, and frustrations.
This argument concludes that the child does not need to be protected from all pain, but rather needs a natural amount of it in order to become stronger; he needs to experience waiting, rejection, and disappointment, with us by his side.
When he wants something and doesn't get it, then gets angry and discovers after a while that he was able to calm down and continue his day, he learns an important lesson:
I am capable of enduring the pain of deprivation or rejection, and nothing will happen to me.
Psychologist Diana Baumrind's research distinguished between authoritarian parenting, which is based on control and harshness with little warmth and inclusion, and supportive parenting, which combines clear boundaries with a warm relationship. This balance is the essence of balanced parenting.
I can refuse my child's request and respect it, set a limit and empathize with his anger, and stand firm without shouting.
Our Islamic heritage contains a summary of this meaning: **Strength without violence, and gentleness without weakness.**
Both extremes are unacceptable: neither cruelty that breaks the child, nor leniency that blurs the boundaries.
In today's language, we can say:
**Don't break the child to make him obey you, and don't give up your role to make him happy with you.**
How can we say "no" without being harsh?
The simplest rule is: **Contain the feeling, and stick to the limit or rule.**
If your screen time is up, say:
"I know you're enjoying it and want to continue, but your screen time is up."
And in the store:
"I know you want this game, but we're only buying one game today."
Upon leaving the park:
"I know you wish we could stay longer, and it's hard to stop while we're enjoying ourselves, but it's time to come back."
The child may get angry or cry. Don't tell him that it's "not worth crying over," don't give him a long lecture, and don't let his crying be a reason to change the decision.
Allow emotions, but don't let them dictate the situation.
When a child cries after hearing "no," it's not just them who learns about the possibility of frustration; we also learn that our child might be unhappy with our decision at that moment. We want their smile and contentment, so giving them what they want might seem like the quickest way to end the situation, but it's certainly not the best.
On the other hand, don't let "no" be the most frequently used word in the house.
Before you refuse, ask yourself: Is there a real reason? Is it related to the child’s safety or health, the rights of others, or the family system? Or am I refusing simply to exert control?
Give your child room to choose whenever you can, but when a limit is necessary, be clear and firm.
Steadfastness does not mean stubbornness. If you discover that your decision was wrong, you can review it and say: “I thought about it, and I think my first decision was not appropriate.”
In this way, the child also learns that a strong person can review himself.
Sometimes a child needs a parent to hug him when he cries, and sometimes he needs a parent who says "no" to him and stays by his side while he cries; who does not punish him for his feelings, is not afraid of them, and does not buy his approval by backing down.
Know that firmness is a neglected educational right of your child. We often talk about a child's right to love, respect, and safety, but there is an equally important educational right: to have clear boundaries and rules that protect and guide them.
He has the right to find a mature person who sees beyond his immediate desire, who will stop him when it is in his best interest to do so, who will stand firm when he tests the limits, and who will bear his anger without insulting him.
Conversely, a child needs kindness to feel loved and understood, and at the same time needs clear and firm boundaries through which he learns what is permissible and what is not, how to wait, how to tolerate frustration, and how to respect the rights of others.
Firmness does not mean harshness, punishment, or raising one's voice. Rather, it means setting clear boundaries for the child and adhering to them calmly and respectfully, even when he is angry or does not like our decisions.
Therefore, firmness is a form of love, because we do not only think about what pleases our child now, but also about what he needs to grow up to be a responsible person, capable of controlling himself and facing life.
And finally…
Kindness builds bridges, and firmness preserves boundaries; and between them lies sound upbringing.