Tag Archives: toddler

The power of why: What intransigent toddlers can teach us about intransigent colleagues

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Our organizational colleagues and toddlers often have one thing in common: they seem opposed to whatever we support. Whether they “won’t back that idea” or “won’t eat that macaroni,” their intransigence is one in the same.

By learning to deal with stubborn toddlers, then, we can also learn to deal with stubborn colleagues. In a word, toddlers can help make our work lives negotiable.

Perhaps the most important thing we can learn from toddlers is the power of three words: “why” and “why not”. Now, some toddlers say these words almost as often as they inhale, but that’s not where I’m going. Here’s where I’m going: A common pattern among toddlers (though certainly none that I know) is to eat part of their macaroni, then refuse to eat the rest. A common response from parents is frustration, followed by an escalating battle of wills. A better response from parents are the deceptively simple questions: “why?” or “why not?” A small assortment of the real responses that I would’ve really heard, had I really known such a toddler:

  • I’m not hungry
  • It’s yucky
  • I have to go potty
  • I’m having trouble balancing the macaroni on my fork
  • Look what I can do with these blocks, daddy!

Now, these responses and the questions that precipitated them are critical, as they each pave the way for a different integrative solution that should still involve the macaroni:

  • I’m not hungry (Possible solution: Slow down the meal, try again later, or mention the implications of satiation for dessert)
  • It’s yucky (Possible solution: Mix in the chunks of cheese that she doesn’t like)
  • I have to go potty (Possible solution: Excuse her from the table, then try again)
  • I’m having trouble balancing the macaroni on my fork (Possible solution: Help and/or teach her to balance it)
  • Look what I can do with these blocks, daddy! (Possible solution: Take away the blocks and reiterate the need to focus)

Of course, none of these solutions is surefire, but all of them are better than an escalating battle of wills. But now let’s tie the toddler’s behavior back to the corporate world. Suppose you were proposing an organizational change to your colleagues; here are some corporate analogs of the toddler’s responses, along with some possible solutions from you:

  • I’m not hungry = My appetite for change is waning; these changes are coming too fast (Possible solution: Slow down)
  • It’s yucky = I just found something I didn’t like in your proposal (Possible solution: Probe that issue deeply)
  • I have to go potty = I’m distracted because of other priorities right now (Possible solution: Approach them later)
  • I’m having trouble balancing the macaroni on my fork = I’m having trouble understanding how this will work (Possible solution: Walk them through the details, perhaps in a separate meeting)
  • Look what I can do with these blocks, daddy! = I’m trying to distract or confuse you in hopes that you don’t succeed (Possible solution: Set the meeting agenda and ensure that everyone publicly agrees to it in advance)

Both the analogues and possible solutions are just examples. But I think you can see that the toddler’s behavior is surprisingly reminiscent of your colleagues’ behavior. So the three little words of “why” and “why not” can often prove useful at the boardroom table in addition to the dinner table.

Have you ever asked why (of an intransigent toddler or colleague) and been surprised at the response?

My toddler STILL won’t eat their dinner! Timing your first offer

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One of my first posts tackled one of the most intractable problems: convincing a toddler to eat dinner. In brief, it suggested making the first offer: approaching the toddler before dinner and offering a cookie if they eventually eat their meal. Not waiting for the meltdown and offering several cookies out of desperation.

As I said there and will reiterate here: getting a toddler to eat is not easy, but it’s negotiable! To make it negotiable, though, is to understand an important distinction in the advice originally provided: making the first offer does not mean making an offer first thing. It just means making an offer before your wily counterpart (in this case your toddler) does. As I said in the first post: “it’s generally a good idea to make the first offer—that is, to make an offer before the other side does.”

This distinction is subtle enough that it merits its own post. To see why, imagine that you implemented the initial advice by offering the toddler a cookie before they even approached the table. Specifically, you said: “Little Billy dearest, if you sit down at the table right now, finish your entire plate of broccoli, and don’t get up until you’ve done that, you can have one chocolate chip cookie. If you don’t sit down, don’t eat all of your broccoli, or get up from the table before eating all of your broccoli, you don’t get any cookies.” That’s a good first offer: it’s clear, it’s specific, and it preempts any possible protests by Billy dearest.

But it may also be premature. What happens if Billy sits down promptly, starts eating earnestly, but stops eating halfway through the broccoli? “Billy dearest,” you say, “remember what I said: You have to eat that whole plate of broccoli without getting up in order to get your cookie.”

“But mommy / daddy,” Billy protests, “I have to go POTTY!”

Now you’re in a jam. On the one hand, this is exactly the kind of bowel self-awareness you’ve been pining for. On the other, you made it perfectly clear that Billy would not get a cookie if he got up. Let him go potty and you reinforce his bowel self-awareness, but you also undermine your credibility and undercut your offer. If he’s anything like my toddler, he will suddenly find the need to go potty anytime he doesn’t want to eat something—then demand the cookie.

What happened here? You followed my advice and made a very respectable first offer. But you made it before fully understanding Billy’s situation. That is, you made an offer first thing, not just before Billy did. Had you asked Billy, prior to the offer, “Billy, do you have to go potty before dinner?”, chances are this particular jam could’ve been avoided.

So the general point is this: when negotiating with toddlers or anyone else, it’s best to understand everything you can about their situation—and make sure they understand all the critical aspects of your situation—before anyone makes an offer. Then and only then do you want to make a first offer, meaning the first offer that anyone makes in the negotiation. It’s not a risk-free strategy, but in matters of human interaction, those are few and far between.

How you ever made an offer too soon?

Why won’t they eat (sleep, use the potty)? Making the first offer to a toddler

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Why not start with one of the toughest problems of all—convincing a toddler to do what you want them to do? If you have kids, you know that this problem often seems insurmountable. From eating, to sleeping, to using the potty, your priorities for toddlers only occasionally correspond to their priorities for themselves. Not that I’m speaking from experience.

Yet, this problem is not insurmountable. It’s negotiable.

Now, negotiations with toddlers could fill up a book or two, and chances are that future blog posts will take up the topic. But today, I’ll just touch on one research-based negotiation principle that I consider useful for this situation: making the first offer.

Negotiation research shows that, with a few notable exceptions that I will probably discuss in the future, it’s generally a good idea to make the first offer—that is, to make an offer before the other side does. Why? Because doing that focuses their attention on what you want—your goals—rather than what they want. Focused on what you want, they adjust their own goals.

This principle applies to toddlers in many ways, but let’s discuss just one, in the context of convincing a toddler to eat their dinner. If your toddler doesn’t like to do that, the typical evening probably looks something like this: you sit them down in front of a lovingly-prepared plate. They stare at it dubiously while you eat your own food, all the while imploring them in increasingly frustrated terms to eat theirs. Eventually, the pot boils over and someone gets upset—either they or you. Either way, the toddler throws a tantrum and refuses ever more strenuously to eat. Eventually, perhaps, you give in and offer them an array of goodies—a cookie, Sesame Street, a new toy—whatever will quell the rising storm. They demand TWO cookies AND Sesame Street; exhausted, you agree, and they win.

There are at least two problems with this approach: you give them more than the one cookie you really wanted to, and you reinforce the idea that temper tantrums “work,” thus creating the impetus to throw another one tomorrow. On the basis of negotiation research, how about trying this instead? Before even sitting them down at the table, say something like: “Now it’s important to eat our dinner. If you eat all of your dinner tonight, you can have one cookie. If you don’t eat all of your dinner, you can’t have any cookies.” No guarantees with a toddler (to offer one would be the height of foolishness), but mine often smiles and digs into dinner.

Note what you’ve done here: you’ve made a clear first offer, on your terms. You’ve focused the toddler on your goal—eating the dinner—while offering them something that satisfies their own goal—getting a cookie. In the process, you’ve avoided throwing in the second cookie and Sesame Street, and you’ve also avoided setting the precedent that bad behavior gets rewarded. Family serenity prevails.

I consider this an effective strategy, but also one to use sparingly. Just like you don’t want to reinforce tantrums, you don’t want your toddler thinking that the only reason to behave well is an extrinsic reward like a cookie. So this is a strategy that I’d recommend using occasionally, if and only if you’ve got a problem with your toddler’s behavior. But it is a strategy, and that’s better than a dinnertime meltdown.

What do you think? Have you used a similar approach, and if so, how did it go?