When we conquer a distorted fear, we also gain a new sense of confidence.
Step 1. We talk about the fear when the child is not frightened.
Once in the fear mode, we don’t process information very well. That’s why we only talk about the fear whenever our child is feeling safe and unthreatened.
Step 2. We use humor to underscore there’s no real danger.
Suppose a child is afraid to walk upstairs alone. In such case, we might say: Every time family members walk upstairs, they get beamed up into outer space, right? No? Well, then every time family members walk upstairs, they go bald, right? No? Then what happens if you walk up the stairs alone?
Step 3. We put a positive spin on whatever the child fears.
For example, a child who is deathly afraid of skeletons now learns that her skeleton actually protects her jello-like brain from getting hurt! Who knew?
Step 4. Our child creates positive intention statements, expressing what he’ll do (differently) when faced with the fear.
Such statements are written and posted around the house, as well as said aloud. Some examples of positive intention statements are:
Note that positive intention statements are not one-size-fits-all, such as, “I’m not afraid of (fill in the blank).” Rather, they specifically spell out what the child will do differently (than prior times) when now facing the fear.
Step 5. We have dress rehearsals before implementing a new plan of action.
Suppose a child is afraid to go to sleep at night if the closet door is shut. In such case, the parents and child create the same bedtime scenario—but during the daytime—to practice what the child will now do differently at night.
So in broad daylight, the parent initially assumes the role of the child, and the child just watches “the show.” For example, one parent puts the child (the other parent) to bed and then shuts the closet door. The parent assuming the child role models how he’s cool with that . . . no yelling, no tears, nada.
Then it is the child’s turn.
Note that dress rehearsals may also include some fantasy. For example, if a child is afraid of dogs, a sibling can be the “dog” during the dress rehearsal. That way, the brain has chances to become familiar with what it’s going to do . . . but without anything that actually triggers the fear.
Step 6. We include something in our new plan that physically helps with anxiety.
We may give our child something, such as a squishy ball to squeeze, when first overcoming/facing a fear.
Step 7. We get rid of the distorted fear in baby steps.
Suppose a child is afraid to ride in elevators. After rehearsing riding in an imaginary elevator at home, our first trip to a real elevator may be nothing more than watching other people get in and out of one. That’s it—and the child knows, up front, that’s the only expectation.
On the second trip, we may now add pushing the outside elevator button, but we still never get in.
On the third trip, we put one foot in the door—and then take it out, and that’s it.
On the fourth trip, we step in so that we’re completely inside the elevator, but then we get out before it leaves, and so on.
Note that we may be able to accomplish more than one or even all of the above steps during the same trip to an elevator (depends on how easily the child does each prior step).
For some situations, our baby steps may focus on increasing the proximity to whatever is feared. For example, if our child is afraid of dogs, we may just first watch a dog from our front window, while we stay inside our house. Next, we may watch a dog down the street, and so on, working our way up to standing next to a dog and eventually petting it.
Step 8. We provide on-going dialogue that reinforces we’re conquering our fear.
As our child completes each baby step, the brain registers: “Hey, I survived! Whatever I feared was going to happen, did not!” So, it’s important to point that out.
We also want to thank our child for trusting us and for showing the courage to do something that makes him uncomfortable (but is truly safe). Here, we’re shifting the focus from the original fear to a broader concept . . . one of creating brain maps that say, “I can do this.”
In contrast, when we keep our distorted fears, we reinforce brain maps that say, “Run! I can’t survive! I can’t trust anyone!”–even if that isn’t true. Throughout life, the former mindset is going to serve us much better than the latter.
Step 9. We stack the deck.
It never hurts to work behind the scenes to ensure things go smoothly. For example, we can keep our child up way past his bedtime on the night he’s going to stay in his bed all night. We can pick a store with the cutest clothes—that just happen to be on the second floor—when we’re going to ride the elevator. We can find a dog that has never barked once in its life when we’re going to pet it. 
10. We repeat the positive experience in successive days.
This reinforces that new highways are strengthened and the old highway (i.e. the distorted fear) disappears.
Last, we want to celebrate in a way that appeals to our child—both during the process and when the fear is gone. We do so to honor the child’s willingness to conquer a fear and to rejoice that our child’s life will now move forward more smoothly—and with a lot more joy.
When we’re not so attached to an outcome, we find ourselves smiling a whole lot more.
How many times have we been emotionally invested in an outcome, only to react with fear or anger or frustration when it didn’t turn out as we hoped?
Since we can’t control many of the outcomes in our lives, maybe it’s time to give up being so attached to them. In such case, we still note what we’d like to happen—but then, we let it go, choosing to view all outcomes as just opportunities to learn and grow.
And guess what? Turns our there are lots of perks when we chose to detach from an outcome. Here are just a few:
Seems like a pretty good deal for simply shifting how we think.
Yet letting go is not always as easy as it sounds, especially when it comes to our kids.
For example, we’re often calm and collected when dealing with someone else’s child. But the minute our child does the very same thing, we morph into someone else. Why? Well, we’re very attached to our child’s future.
Yet there’s some irony here. The child we’re not nearly as invested in . . . gets the better side of us. Hmmm . . maybe that awareness alone can help us lighten up when interacting with our own kids.
We may also have trouble letting go if we think we’re owed an apology. Nothing like feeling we’ve been wronged to justify “holding on” to something.
Yet, again, what does that really get us? I’ve found this quote to be helpful in such situations: “Apologizing does not always mean that you’re wrong and the other person is right. It just means that you value your relationship more than your ego.”
Last, I think it’s easier to be detached from an outcome if we remember that other people may also be involved in same situation. That means, by default, not everyone is going to get what he or she wants.
Carol Burnett underscored this kind of thinking when she first started her career. I recently watched an interview of her, and she was sharing how she never became upset or second-guessed her talent if she didn’t get a job after an audition. Instead, she just viewed the actor who got the role as . . . this time, it was the other person’s turn.
So, it comes down to this: Is it serving us (or our kids) well whenever we’re attached to an outcome? If the answer is no, then why not let it go and see what happens.
Since I’ve been doing that, I find that I’m traveling much lighter these days—and enjoying the journey so much more.
In natural brain organization, primitive reflexes are integrated naturally at a very young age.
It’s always great to learn that more people are teaching others how retained primitive reflexes and underdeveloped lower centers of the brain are linked to potential.
But I recently came across a site that made me cringe. Thrown in as part of a larger, more comprehensive program (which was the main focus of the site), the primitive reflex example activity was alarming—to say the least.
It was a short video that showed how to do one of this program’s primitive reflex activities. No problem with that. However, there was nothing about the example that was congruent with how primitive reflexes are actually integrated. Yet how would a parent know differently?
So here’s my concern with programs and individuals (e.g. I know a piano teacher who started having her students do primitive reflex movements) who add this component to what they already do.
We could have a child with retained primitive reflexes who, in good faith, follows whatever that program or person has instructed—regardless whether doing so actually integrates retained primitive reflexes.
However, if the child does not progress, the parents will likely conclude it’s either not possible to integrate primitive reflexes or their child is so underdeveloped that nothing ever works. Yet, both conclusions are flawed if the child was never doing the movements in a way that actually parallels natural brain organization.
But here’s what really breaks my heart. This very important puzzle piece for so many kids is now crossed off a list of possibilities to explore. In other words, the next time retained primitive reflexes are ever brought up, those parents are probably no longer receptive.
It’s also my experience that people and programs who throw in a “little primitive reflex work” often additionally omit the necessary creeping and crawling components that need to happen in conjunction with integrating primitive reflexes. Or, this latter component is also haphazardly thrown into the mix so that it, too, is not done in a way that yields maximum results.
At Brain Highways, it takes us two, comprehensive 8-week courses to teach what we find necessary for parents to learn in order to confidently and successfully facilitate their child’s primitive reflex integration and development of the lower centers of the brain.
This latest site (with the concerning video) was not the first time I’ve come across a program or someone claiming to integrate primitive reflexes and develop lower centers of the brain (i.e. the pons and midbrain) in a way that differs greatly from what I know to yield results.
Since we have 13 years of experience at Brain Highways and have now taught nearly 5,000 participants how to develop their lower centers of the brain with great success, I thought it might be helpful to parents to know what to look for when evaluating such programs or following other people’s lead.
Primitive Reflexes
Here’s some of what we’ve found must be addressed in order to ensure maximum results:
1. The patterning always reflects how babies naturally do the movement. For example, any program that suggests doing the reflex movements in a standing or sitting position has strayed greatly from how it’s done in natural brain organization.
2. Kids are never “taught” (via verbal directions) what to do since young babies do these movements innately—without any instruction.
3. Parents learn how to “physically pattern” their kids to do the specific movements, but just until the brain recalls what it’s already wired to do automatically.
4. Parents learn how and when to peel back their role so their kids ultimately do the reflex movements independently. If the program does not include how to move towards independent patterning, many kids will remain passive (requiring multiple people to always pattern them) and, again, participants will not be doing the movements independently as babies do in natural brain organization.
5. Parents also learn how to initially break down a reflexive movement if their child’s body goes rigid while patterning. This is important since the brain will just “shut down” if it’s overwhelmed and/or patterning is forced.
6. Since the hands also play an integral role in the movement, nothing is ever placed in the child’s hands while doing the patterns.
7. There is a natural sequence to introducing specific reflex movements (so be wary of approaches that require kids do everything all at once).
8. In order to yield maximum results in the least amount of time, most participants initially need specific feedback on how they’re patterning their kids In other words, just watching someone do the movement live or by video or reading explanations and viewing diagrams won’t suffice for most parents. In some cases, we’ve even seen dramatic detours from what was modeled. Without immediate feedback, those participants would have wasted a lot of time, or worse, may have never figured out that they weren’t doing the movements as intended.
9. The reflexive movements are done gracefully (not at rocket speed), and body parts are synchronized. Again, parents learn how to ensure this happens.
10. In regards to lower brain development, primitive reflex movements can be thought of as the input, whereas creeping and crawling can be thought of as the output. Therefore, if a program only includes primitive reflexes—without a creeping and crawling component—the child is only participating in some of the movements that develop the lower centers of the brain.
Creeping and Crawling
Here’s some of what we’ve found must be addressed in order to ensure maximum results:
1. Specific clothing attire and flooring makes it much easier to creep (the primary movement that develops the pons). In contrast, certain clothing and flooring hinders the process. Therefore, programs need to specify all of the above so that participants maximize their time on the floor.
2. As with the primitive reflexes, participants are also never taught how to creep or crawl. Doing so would engage the cortex in the process—and, therefore, not develop the pons or midbrain.
3. Since participants are no longer babies, they may inadvertently use their cortex and other parts of their body to compensate when trying to creep or crawl—but that (again) will not develop their pons or midbrain since babies would not have such options. So, programs and individuals need to address how participants may unknowingly compensate and how to ensure this does not happen.
4. Since the idea is to go back and finish what was not developed during the first year of life, there is a natural sequence as to when to introduce what movements. So be wary of programs that have kids both creep and crawl right when they start.
5. Initially, creeping must be done daily, rather than just a few times a week, as this ensures early pathways are solidified. So also be wary of programs that claim kids just need to creep 5 to 10 minutes a week.
Of course, there are other key components to include that ensure success, such as getting compliance (many kids with retained primitive reflexes are wired to go into a fight or flight response when they don’t want to do something). We also find it’s important to teach the kids why they’re doing this brain work, and we additionally know it’s more than possible to make this important work . . . lots of fun!
And . . . there is yet one more concern when programs or individuals only offer selected pieces of information about lower brain development. When the brain first starts to organize itself, some kids go through a brief regression period. So programs and individuals that do not address this or teach parents what to do if it happens do a great disservice to families. This is also why it’s never okay for kids to randomly do patterns or creep and crawl at school or at some other organization without parent knowledge or understanding of the whole process.
In short, messin’ with brain development—without fully understanding and implementing all its components—can be risky businesses. Worst case scenario, it might go as the saying suggests: A little knowledge can be a dangerous thing. Best case scenario, results are limited and unpredictable.
But most importantly, both scenarios can be avoided since it’s possible to teach families everything they need to know.
When we get defensive, we’re no longer communicating on steady ground.
Suppose we’re at a birthday party, and someone makes a negative remark about our child’s behavior. If we personalize the comment, we may do one of the following:
We make excuses.
You know, Sammy was up late last night. That’s why he’s out-of-sorts today.
We argue.
You’re wrong. Sammy did not do (whatever the person said happened). You’re just always on his and my case.
We respond with sarcasm.
Like your child is perfect . . .
We blame others.
Well, Sammy was at his father’s all week—and he just lets him run wild.
We trivialize.
Oh, boys will be boys.
We give a speech.
You have no idea what my life is like. I’m trying to juggle working full-time and meeting my kids’ needs. I’m doing the best I can . . . (and so on).
But, in truth, how many times does a defensive response improve the situation? In my life experience, I come up with zero. So, here are some alternate ways to respond when we think we’re being judged:
We might pause and ponder:
What does that comment reveal about the person who made it (rather than the one it was directed to)?
We might probe for more information.
“What was your intent in sharing that comment with me?” shifts the focus back on the person who made the comment.
We might respond with a ready-to-go phrase,
“Thanks for the feedback” acknowledges what was said, without specifically addressing its content.
We might respond with a ready-to-go one-word response.
“Ouch!” –said with a smile, shifts a negative tone to a more playful one.
Of course, being defensive often escalates into a battle of just proving who’s right and wrong. For example, suppose we think we arrive on time at our mother-in-law’s house for dinner. But she tells us that we are 30 minutes late, and now all the food is cold.
Yet, we’re sure she told us 6:30, not 6:00—heck, we can even dig up the email that proves our point. So we go back and forth, insisting we were told 6:30, while she remains adamant that she always said 6:00.
But in such case, does it really matter who is right? Wouldn’t it be in everyone’s best interest just to move forward and enjoy the meal?
That means if told we’re late (even when we think we weren’t), we can also say, “Thanks for your patience. What can I do to help get the meal back on track?”
And who knows? If we model circumventing defensive arguments, our kids may also start to respond with grace and style when they think they’re being judged.
Seems like a great tool to have in a world that’s not always so kind.
What child doesn’t want a sense of independence?
I know a lot of kids with labels such as autism, ADHD, bipolar, and more. I think such diagnoses were given, in part, to help others to better understand how these kids are “different.”
But that’s where I disagree.
I actually think we’re way, way more alike than we are different, and we do a great disservice to kids when we present them as being unlike the rest of us.
I can already hear the protesters to that statement. After all, how can a child with autism be like others if he hits himself until he bleeds?
But is self-injurious behavior really unique just to those with autism?
No. Self-injurious behavior is common among many people. There are those who hurt themselves by staying in toxic, emotional relationships. There are those who hurt themselves by doing drugs. There are those who hurt themselves by starving themselves to be thin. The list goes on.
We also often think nonverbal or kids with limited speech are different because they don’t communicate they way we do. But who says talking is the only way to communicate? And why do we assume that not being able to talk is synonymous with not being able to understand what’s being said?
Yet, I’ve had parents insist their nonverbal child doesn’t comprehend what’s being communicated, which then justifies why they don’t talk to these kids in the same way or as often as they do everyone else.
But none of us understand what’s being communicated all the time. Who hasn’t known a spouse or friend or teacher who wasn’t really processing what we were saying?
Then there’s the belief that kids with diagnoses get over-stimulated. Yet, all kids (and adults) have a breaking point where they need a sense of calmness and quiet in order to regroup.
Likewise, we’re all the same in regards to sitting still. While the amount of time we’re able to do so may differ, the need to get up and move—after sitting for a period of time—is universal.
And what child wouldn’t feel pride after taking on a challenge or gain confidence when given new responsibilities? What child doesn’t want people to accept and honor him for who he is—right now?
Sometimes, I think parents of kids with diagnoses forget the common thread among all kids. For example, what child hasn’t experienced being excluded or feeling disappointed? Such experiences are not unique with labels. And what child wouldn’t exhibit out-of-bounds behavior if people always excused such actions and didn’t believe he was capable of anything better?
So it comes down to . . . are kids with diagnoses really different than the rest of us, or do we make them different by how we interact with them?
That’s why I propose a new way of thinking. I believe we are most alike in that we are all different, unique human beings.
Why does it have to be more complicated than that?
Are we always “present’ when we’re with our kids?
When thinking about our kids, we often spend a lot of time lamenting the past and having angst over the future. But there’s a problem with doing that.
We lose the moment. And that means we miss who they are right now.
So why do we jump back and forth in time? Well, we often use the past to justify our present actions, and we regularly leap to the future when we’re fearful something “might” happen.
To be sure: The future needs a new public relations campaign. That’s because most of us associate some kind of apprehension or dread with the unknown.
But uncertainty about the future also means . . . anything is possible!
Think about it: Would any of us really want to know our kids’ future with absolute sureness? Yikes. To me, that kind of knowledge would create even more angst.
So if the moment is where “life” is really happening, how can we stay there?
First, we become aware of when our thoughts are time traveling. With such consciousness, we can then immediately return our focus to the present.
For example, suppose we’re watching our child during soccer try-outs. Instead of enjoying the moment, we suddenly find ourselves thinking: “Oh, no! There are some new kids who are really fast. That means Tommy may not make the team this year. If he doesn’t make the team, that’s going to be embarrassing. He’s going to be so upset . . .” and so it goes.
However, if we’re cognizant of staying in the moment, we return to the present the minute we realize we’ve left it.
But yes . . . . that’s much, much easier said than done.
So, I find it helpful to have some ready-to-use phrases to pull me back to the present: They are:
Drop the story (whenever I’m thinking about something that happened in the past or could happen in the future).
Drop the judgment (whenever I’m attaching some evaluation to something that distracts from what’s actually happening)
Now, it’s also possible to be at that same soccer try-out without any angst—and still leave the moment. How?
Well, we might find ourselves planning what’s for dinner, when we’ll get our next work-out in, how we might reorganize the pantry—instead of watching what’s presently happening on the field.
For those kinds of thoughts, I tell myself: Drop the to-do list.
Note that staying in the moment is not just for adults. We also model and teach this to our kids.
How do we do that? Well, we can start by encouraging our kids (and ourselves) to look for people who are in the moment. For example, I was recently at a resort. Musicians were playing in an outdoor area where lots of people were passing by. While the music was certainly enjoyable, it was a three-year-old girl that made me stop.
She wasn’t just dancing to the music with zero inhibition. She was feeling it—in every part of her body. As she blissfully moved this way and that, the people passing by didn’t even exist.
And you know what? I found myself in the moment, enraptured by her joy.
We can also seek programs and experiences for our kids that focus on being in the moment. For example, learning how to be present is an integral part of our new Brain Highways Sports program.
Is this component common among most activities for kids? No. But who knows what might transpire if we (as parents) start asking for it to be included.
And it’s funny. Once you start thinking about staying in the moment, you realize that people you’ve always thought of as calm, grounded, and engaging –are those who do live in the present.
For example, my dad will be 94 next week. He has lived through the depression. He’s a WWII veteran. He has long lost count of how many funerals he’s attended. He’s had five cancers.
Yet, he has never wished for more than he has. He doesn’t judge people or himself. He isn’t fearful—and that was incredulous to watch with each of his cancers.
And while I’ve known that people of all ages love chatting with my Dad, I now realize it’s because he’s always “right there” when he’s with you. Whatever you’re interested in, so is my dad . . . at that moment.
You know what? Tonight, I’m going to call my Dad and thank him for being present throughout my life. I’ve never done that.
As parents, I’m thinking that’s a call we’d all like to get one day.
What makes your child “come alive?”
If we polled parents, most would likely respond they encourage learning, kindness, and responsibility in their homes.
But what about passion? Do we inspire kids to discover their passions? Do we model ours?
For example, there’s not a member of my immediate or extended family that isn’t familiar with Ernest Shackleton, a not-so-well-known Antarctic explorer who failed in every one of his major exploration goals, yet the tales of his attempts are beyond comprehension.
Our family knows that name because my husband, by chance, read a book ten years ago, Endurance, which recounted Shackleton’s attempt to cross the Antarctic continent through the South Pole.
But something about Shackleton’s leadership, perseverance, and quest lit a spark in my husband.
After reading that book, pretty sure my hubby researched everything ever written about that man. Yet as a family, we loved how my husband would become so uncharacteristically animated every time he shared some new fact with us.
In other words, his passion for Ernest Shackleton was clear, and it was catchy. That’s what passion does. It awakens something in us that can then transfer to others.
Steve Jobs knows about passion. When he spoke to Stanford graduates in 2005, he told them, “ . . . the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven’t found it, keep looking. Don’t settle.” Probably explains why Steve Jobs kept working even after he was very rich.
I’m lucky in that I’ve always been passionate about my “work.” The saying, “If you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life” has been my experience.
So when my girls were young, I wanted to instill that same kind of thinking in them. I recall when my oldest daughter was four. She was coloring while I was telling her I wanted her to love whatever work she chose as an adult. I remember her pausing before looking up to say: “Then I think I’ll be a colorer.”
While she did not pursue a career in art, she did find one she is passionate about.
And that’s the point. It’s not about making sure our kids, right now, discover their lifetime passion (as if there was only one passion available to each of us). It’s about encouraging and modeling passion, right now, so that’s always a part of their lives.
