Welcome back to Mia's story. If you need to catch up, here's [part 1] and [part 2].
Today we're tackling something that I think many families experience but don't always have language for: the default parent dynamic.
For Mia, Mom is it. Not just during meltdowns. Not just during bedtime. For everything.
If Mia is even slightly dysregulated, she doesn't want her dad to look at her, talk to her, or come near her. He can't sit in the wrong chair. He can't sing. It would be easier to list the things that DIDN'T trigger her when Dad was around.
So it's no surprise that her Dad was feeling rejected. Even with all the compassion and sympathy in the world, it's hard not to dwell on the narrative "my kid doesn't want me."
Reframing rejection
Mia's nervous system has identified Mom as her primary co-regulation source. Mom is the person whose presence, voice, touch, and energy feel the most predictable and safe. When Mia's system is stressed, it craves the person it trusts most. Everything (and everyone) else becomes a potential threat, or at the very least, an unwelcome variable.
It's not that Dad is doing anything wrong. It's that Mia's nervous system has a smaller window of tolerance for variability, and Dad represents more variability than Mom in those moments.
The problem is- it was starting to drive a wedge between Dad and Mia, which further snowballed the problem. Dad didn’t get enough reps to learn how to regulate Mia because she wouldn’t allow him, and that made him even less confident, more frustrated, and less “approachable” during the meltdowns.
The need to control
Mia's need to control lighting, seating, sounds, and who does what isn't a power play. It's the same nervous system strategy we just talked about showing up in a different way.
When a child's sensory system is easily overwhelmed, controlling the environment becomes a way to manage the total load.
If I decide where everyone sits, I know what to expect visually. If I decide whether Dad sings, I control the auditory input coming at me. If I decide that only Mom— the safest person in the room who knows exactly how I like things — can sit next to me, then I can breathe a sigh of relief and let my guard down.
It's a lot of effort for a 4-year-old, honestly. And it tells me that Mia is working really hard to hold herself together. The control IS her regulation strategy right now. And while I’m not necessarily suggesting that we just let Mia “run the show” everyday for the rest of her life, I am suggesting that maybe we don’t focus on this challenge just yet.
I would first prioritize building some reps with Dad, and getting more connected through play.
What can Dad do?
This is the hard part, because the honest answer starts with: don't force it.
