Saying No To "No!"

I have turned into the mother I swore I would never be: The No Queen. As proof, here are some sentences that came out of my mouth a few mornings ago: "No, you can't watch another TV show," "No pinching Mommy," "No, cookies are not for breakfast," and "No?...?stop?...?please don't spit choco-late milk onto your sister!" And all of this transpired before 9 a.m.

The worst part is that my incessant use of the word has, well, no impact on my daughters, Blair, 4, and Drew, 2.

"That's because kids become 'No-deaf,'?" explains Ann Douglas, author of The Mother of All Parenting Books. "It becomes meaningless to them."

She's right. My "No" -- though firm and appropriately ominous -- doesn't stop Drew from dousing me with water every time she takes a bath, which drives me even crazier. (Was it Albert Einstein who said the definition of "insanity" is using "No" over and over again to your kids and expecting a different result?) Plus, saying it makes me feel as if I'm always raining on my girls' parades. Which, in a sense, I am.

"Overusing the word 'No' tells a child, 'Don't explore, don't touch, don't experiment, don't take risks,'?" says Jane Nelsen, author of Positive Discipline for Preschoolers. That's not to say you should stop correcting your kid or setting limits. Your task is to think of ways to mean "No" without actually saying it.

Removing the word from my vocabulary seems slightly more difficult than cutting off a finger. But I'm intrigued by the challenge, so I announce to my husband, Thad, that we're embarking upon a weeklong "Just Say No to No" experiment.

How to Say No to Your Toddler

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I decided to talk first with Jim Fay, coauthor of the best-selling Parenting With Love and Logic. His approach: Rather than replying, "No, you can't go outside until you put away your Legos," you should tell your child, "Yes, you can go outside after you put away your Legos." Fay believes that saying "No" takes all control away from young kids, and they'll do anything to get it back.

The Test:
It's Day 1, 7:30 a.m. I've been awake exactly six minutes when Blair asks me for a Twizzler. Game on. I think about saying, "Yes, you can have a Twizzler after you eat breakfast," but then she still gets the candy. Not good. The best alternative I can come up with is this: "Yes, I'll bet you're hungry, honey. Would you like Cheerios for breakfast?"

"I want a Twizzler," she replies.

I reevaluate: What can I say "Yes" to? Maybe, "Yes, you can have a Twizzler after school." But before I make the offer, Blair blurts out again, "Please, Mommy, can I have a Twizzler?" I'm so frustrated that all I can see in my mind's eye is the word "NO!" in caps, with an exclamation point written in Twizzlers red. So I give in to the urge and say, "No, you can not have a Twizzler." Blair throws herself to the floor, as if I've told her she'll never eat candy again -- not exactly the result I was after.

The Bottom Line:
Turning a negative into a positive sounds nice, but what if you choke under pres-sure and can't think of anything viable to say "Yes" to? I need to try something else.

Next I chatted with Douglas, who believes the word "No" is too vague. "It doesn't tell kids anything," she says. "You need to provide an action they can follow." If a 3-year-old runs into the street after a ball, it's better to yell "Stop!" That lets him know what you want him to do. Likewise, when your toddler is about to bite down on an electrical cord, shouting "Ouch!" explains what the potential hazard is and why it's, ahem, a no-no.

The Test:
It's Day 3, and I'm out for a stroll with the girls. Suddenly, Blair sprints ahead, chanting, "You can't get me." Drew chases after her big sister. Blair comes to a halt before reaching the curb, as she's been instructed to do. But Drew isn't familiar with this safety drill. I want to scream "No." In-stead, I shout "Freeze!" And what do you know? She freezes, arms in mid-chug. I try it again the next day: When Drew grabs the burner knob on the stove, I yell "Hot!" Instinctively she pulls her hands to her chest. Aha!

The Bottom Line:
This method rocks, and not just with dangerous situations. "Please stop throwing food on the floor" works better than "No throwing food on the floor" (the latter phrase leaves an open-ing for my kids to throw it elsewhere). My only caveat: Come up with some "No" substitutes in ad-vance so you'll be ready in the heat of the moment.

I've made a breakthrough, but I'm not ready to rest. So I phone Betsy Brown Braun, a child-behavior specialist and author of Just Tell Me What to Say. Her advice: "Your child needs information, so tell him what he can do before telling him what he can't." Say your kid jumps on the new couch. While you're tempted to say, "No jumping on the couch," the problem isn't his jumping; it's where he's doing it. So give him another option you're okay with: "You can jump on the floor or on Mommy's bed right after dinner."

The Test:
It's Day 6. Drew is lying on the sofa, kicking her sister. "Please stop kicking Blair," I yell from the kitchen. She doesn't stop. "Drew, stop it now!" I say, but she keeps kicking.

Then I hear Thad intervene. "Drew, you want to kick? Kick the pillow," he says. She looks at her dad, looks at the pillow he's pointing to, then looks back at him.

"Kick pillow," she says, giggling, as if she'd thought of the idea herself. She proceeds to kick it happi-ly.

Then Blair asks to go to her friend's house right before bedtime. "Sorry, it's too late," I say. Cue the tears. I tell her she can play with her sister. Add wailing. I'm stumped.

Then I regroup. "I know you want a playdate with Haley," I say. "Let's call and ask her tomorrow morning."

"Okay," Blair says, calming down. As I gently nudge her to the bathroom to brush her teeth, I can't help but crack a smile: I've dodged a meltdown by tiptoeing around "No."

The Bottom Line:
This approach works wonders. Long after the experiment, I find myself returning to it multiple times a day. (Q: "Can I watch another Dora?" A: "You can tomorrow. Now it's time for bed." Q: "Can I have ice cream for a snack?" A: "We'll have it for dessert.") By my calculation, it's enabled me to defuse tantrums four times out of five.

Thad and I hardly say "No" to our kids anymore. I've become a master at catching myself right before the word shoots out of my mouth. When one of us does slip, it's because we're too pooped from the hard work involved in changing our behavior. (Braun's analysis is spot-on: "Raising children is re-ally about raising parents.")

I borrow liberally from all three experts -- even Fay's "say yes" approach is helpful if I'm divinely in-spired -- but I'm most partial to "No" Strategy #3, which makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, I'm not totally screwing up this parenting thing after all.

With less whining, fighting, and bad behavior (and fewer consequences), our house has become a noticeably cheerier place. Blair actually woke up on Day 7 and said, "Today is a happy day." Maybe that was because without being told "No" every other second, her unbridled confidence had returned. Or perhaps it was because she somehow thought she could weasel me into a Twizzler for breakfast. Either way, I'll take it.

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