Children do NOT need boundaries

Just kidding. Don’t jump…

The picture is a little more complex.

There are limits in our children’s lives, of course. I am only offering here an alternative to the conventional view. Out of so much fear that we may not be good enough parents for our children, we stop feeling and stop asking questions. So here it comes—bold? provocative?—you can decide.

After years of accepting the “sanctity” of boundaries in parenting as though they were a law of nature (“Of course, of course. In my home there are clear boundaries. Perhaps different from those in other homes, but certainly, children need boundaries…”), I recently turned to think about this. Really think about it, feel it, and then think again.

Let’s start at the end, with the bottom line.

There are limits in our children’s lives.

There are limits in our lives as well.

There are limits in our world.

Some are physical and tangible, and some belong to the social, human, and moral norms within which we choose to live.

And that is a good thing.

Yet somehow, “setting boundaries” has become a kind of ultimate parenting sport. Every mother and father in Israel reports on their successes (and occasionally, with refreshing honesty, on their failures) in this arena.

But children do not need us to set boundaries for them.

(And here I am serious.)

They need boundary-setting for its own sake no more than they need learned lectures about gravity.

Back to the Respectful Parenting Focusing Page

Boundaries are present in their world—clear, useful, elegant, and real—from the moment they are born, and perhaps even before, while still in the womb.

Just as they learn about their world—our world—from the very beginning, gradually and eagerly, so too do they discover its limits.

There is no limit to the number of limits a child encounters.

There is a limit to how far a baby or child can crawl or walk before becoming tired.

A limit to how rough a surface they can tolerate crawling on.

A limit to how much they can eat.

A limit to how long they can go between meals.

A limit to how hard they can hit a toy before it breaks.

A limit to how high they dare to climb on their own.

(And that is in the best-case scenario, where we do not stop them because of our fears and our lack of faith in them—but that deserves a separate reflection.)

A limit to how long they can hop on one foot before becoming tired.

A limit to the complexity of the puzzle they can or wish to complete.

A limit to how long they can or want to play in the evening before going to sleep.

And so on, and so on, and so on.

There are also limits between people.

As a mother, I serve as a kind of research laboratory for my child in the beginning.

I have limits as a person, and they explore them:

How hard can they touch or hit during play?

How close can they come, and in what ways?

There are also limits between my child and me, and these, too, gradually change shape.

There are limits to how much closeness or play I want or am available for, to what feels pleasant, to how much reciprocity feels right.

And so on, and so on.

Every age reveals and teaches its own limits.

And everything unfolds gradually, through an almost imperceptible transition from the concrete and practical to the abstract, emotional, and moral.

So yes, there are limits in our world—and in theirs.

There is no need to set them.

We do not create them.

They already exist, and they are highly visible and present in all of our lives.

We are here to help, support, guide, and orient—not to engage in power struggles, to overpower, or to win.

There is no state of war between us.

Rather, there is a field of shared interests and a movement toward growth and the realization of the potential of all the members of the family for whom we are responsible.

Our role as parents is to help our children learn the limits that exist in their world, to map their ranges, and to cope with both the difficulties and the advantages they bring.

In fact, the more we interfere in their encounter with limits and stand between our children and the world-of-limits, the blurrier those limits become, and the less complete their understanding will be.

The anger and frustration they feel toward the limits of the world and toward their own limitations will be directed at us, and then we will not be available to support them in meeting those limits.

And beyond that, those same limits apply to us as parents.

We and our children live in the same marvelous world, governed by the same rules.

We, too, need to go to sleep at certain hours, complete tasks, and speak politely and appropriately to the situation.

We do not “set boundaries” for ourselves or for our partners.

Rather, we respond to the realities of our lives and act accordingly.

So, as in so many aspects of parenting, we help our children deal with limits primarily through personal example, and through an abundance of love, acceptance, holding, and understanding.

Well, up to this point everything sounds beautiful in theory.

(Doesn’t it?)

This does not mean allowing our families to function in neglect or chaos.

It does not mean allowing our children to “rule” us, to cause harm to themselves or to us, or to feel unprotected, exposed, and anxious.

Our responsibility as parents is to chart the course, to navigate, and to pass on something of our spirit and our inner world.

How do we do that?

As in life itself, everything is a matter of balance and proportion.

A great deal of respect.

Observation.

Listening.

And faith.

So—

Examples, examples, examples.

(Challenges and solutions, as well as mistakes and failures.)

In another article…

Back to the Parenting Support Sessions Page

See you,

Lilach

Back to the Respectful Parenting Focusing Page