About the time when my child was able to roll over, we’d play a game where he and I would lie down on the floor next to each other. We’d turn our heads away from each other and then quickly turn our heads towards each other again. He loved that I followed his lead. Made him beam every time!

Friday night is animal night! We all take turns pretending to be an animal and everyone else guesses what we are. Sometimes, the “animal” is a helicopter or vacuum, so, you know, we’re kept on our toes.

In our bedtime routine, after we read a book, my partner, child, and I create dreams together. Each of us takes a turn to talk about what dreams we hope to have that night. It gives us some more insight into what our child experienced that day and we can provide some context (in a dream form) if we need to. And if we don’t have to add context to anything, we can just have fun and be creative and silly together.

We let our kids choose how they’d like to connect with us and other adult family members. Usually, the choices are a hug, high five, or fist bump. Sometimes, it can get silly and creative, like with a “foot five” or “ear bump.” Our goal is to let our kids know they have choices about how they use their bodies and the ability to consent to how they can connect with other trusted, safe people.

This is a technique our child experienced at preschool that we’ve adopted at home.

We created a cozy space in our living room (where we spend a lot of our time together) just for our child when she is feeling overwhelmed, with active, big emotions. There’s a comfortable chair and there are some picture books that focus on deep breathing and mindfulness. When she needs a minute to get some space, she goes (or we help her go) to her cozy centering chair. It’s kind of like “time-outs” from the past, but she isn’t completely isolated from the rest of the family and she has a warm, nice environment to be in with some helpful reminders about feeling and managing emotions.

There’s a song I’ve sung to my child since he was 2:

“I love you when I feel happy. I love you when I feel sad. I love you when I feel grumpy. I love you when I feel mad. I love you all the time, yes, I love you all the time. I love you all the time, yes, I love you all the time.”

We also sing it like: “I love you when you feel happy. I love you when you feel sad…” Sometimes, my toddler asks me to sing it when he feels sad or lonely. And sometimes he sings it to me after a point of rupture.

I loved to read when I was a kid. There was one sci-fi series I was really into. My mom read the entire series so we could talk about it together. I know it isn’t something she would have been interested in otherwise. It meant a lot that she cared enough to get to know what I was into so she could get to know me a little better.

My kids and I would play a game like “what does that cloud look like to you,” only with toast. We’d take a piece of toast with whatever fixings you want on it. My kids would take a bite out of their toast and say what shape or image they saw in their toast. And then we’d continue the process until all the delicious toast was consumed.

When your child asks you to be a sounding board as they talk through something, consider thinking ahead and then working backward. Maybe start by helping your child think about how they’d like this to end up or turn out. Then work back from where they want to be and consider if there are ways they can get from here to there.

The teenage years can be a tough time to trust that your friends will “celebrate your no.” Let you kid know you’ll be the bad guy when they need it. Give your kids (and yourself) the permission to complain about you “not letting them” do something that they don’t want to do (like go to a party or concert they don’t feel comfortable going to). As your kids develop their “no thanks” muscles, celebrate their no with them and be the person they can blame the no on.

I left college because I was struggling with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. My parents were concerned and cared about my well-being. One day when I was feeling really low and ashamed, my dad sat down on the floor so he could look into my eyes (I was lying on the couch) and said that he loved me and believed in me. I could tell he meant it. It was such a small thing to say, but it stuck with me in a powerful way. Knowing that he believed in me gave me hope and a little bit more ability to believe in myself.