Communicating to Connect, Not to Control

This morning, I didn’t lecture.

I didn’t punish.

I didn’t try to control behavior with threats or shame.

I communicated—not to change my child,

but to connect with him.

To help him understand.

My 6-year-old has been sneaking into my room lately,

even after I’ve asked him not to.

He loves how nice I keep my space—

the calm, the order, the softness—

so he slips in quietly, invites the cats,

and plays despite my requests to stop.

With my husband home sick with the flu,

the kids and I have been sleeping downstairs,

making the best of it with couch sleepovers,

keeping the energy light

and the risk of spreading illness low.

But this morning,

I walked upstairs to discover my room soaked in cat pee—

on the shag rug, on my clothes,

all over the one space I go to ground

and feel like me.

Because when he snuck in last night,

he accidentally locked the cats in.

This activated me big-time.

I’m incredibly human, peeps.

So after my own private—but very necessary—

meltdown and energy movement session,

I sat with him.

I didn’t yell.

I didn’t shame.

I didn’t call him “bad.”

I said:

“When you choose to break a rule,

it can lead to problems you didn’t expect.

My calm place—the room that helps me feel better—

is now covered in cat pee.

And that makes me feel really sad.

It feels stressful,

because now it will take days to clean.”

I told him:

“The rules in our home aren’t here to punish you.

They’re here to protect our peace.

When you ignore them—even for fun—

you can accidentally create a hard moment for someone you love.”

And something beautiful happened:

He listened.

He understood.

Because I wasn’t trying to change his behavior through fear or force—

I was inviting him into empathy.

Into relationship.

Into the understanding of how his choices ripple outward.

He felt inspired to help.

Not because I asked him to.

Not because I punished him.

But because he could feel the impact.

And he didn’t want to be the cause of sadness or stress—

he wanted to be part of the repair.

That’s what connection-based communication does.

It doesn’t coerce.

It teaches through relationship.

I didn’t need to raise my voice.

I didn’t need to take anything away.

I just spoke from the heart—

with clarity, with honesty, and with love.

And in doing so, I watched my child grow.

Not just behave—

grow.

With excitement, inspiration,

and a soft glow in his heart.

“I want to help you clean up,” he said.

“I want to follow the rules.”

I smiled and replied,

“That would feel really kind.

And next time, when you’re thinking about breaking a rule,

you can pause and ask,

‘What is this rule protecting?’

That shows people you care,

and that you want to help.”

This is what I mean when I say:

Communicate to connect.

Not to control.

Not to punish.

Not to fix.

But to open the space where empathy,

responsibility,

and love

can take root.

That’s the kind of home I want to build.

That’s the kind of humans I hope to raise.