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Is this normal?
What 25 years in schools taught me about the things parents worry about most
By Lucy Loader
Former Principal, Author, Parent
Former Principal, Author, Parent
What 25 years in schools taught me about the things parents worry about most
I worked in schools for twenty-five years: as a teacher, assistant principal and then a principal. I have a Masters in Educational Leadership, half a PhD and I am a self-confessed nerd who will read any book, listen to any podcast and travel anywhere to hear someone talk about kids. Childhood development, parenting, trauma, education…I am there for all of it.
I am also a mum of three, now young adults, who taught me more than any textbook or guest speaker ever did.
In all those roles, there is one question I heard more than any other. It came from brand new parents at the school gate, experienced adults who had already raised children, grandparents who had seen it all (or thought they had) and from parents who worked in education themselves, who had read the books, done the degree, built a career around kids…and still questioned their own parenting. I asked it myself plenty of times too.
The question was always some version of the same thing: Is this normal?
And here is what I want to tell you and what I really wish someone had told me when I knew a lot less:
Almost certainly, yes. It IS normal. And even if it isn't quite, it almost never means what you're afraid it means.
Here are the things I watched parents worry about most across classrooms and my principal's office. And the honest truth about what was actually going on.
Your child loses it completely because you cut their toast the wrong way, or their sock has a seam they can feel, or because (after four hours at the park) you have the audacity to suggest it might be time to go home.
You watch them fall apart and wonder: is something wrong with them? Is there something wrong with me?
Young children have REALLY BIG feelings and a very small capacity to manage them. The part of the brain responsible for emotional regulation — the prefrontal cortex — is not fully developed until the mid-twenties. Not the teens. The MID-TWENTIES. I know. I know.
So when your four-year-old loses the plot over the toast, they are not being manipulative or badly behaved. They are experiencing a feeling that is genuinely overwhelming for a brain that is not yet built to handle it. The tantrum is not the problem. The tantrum is the communication. They don't yet have the words, so they use the tools available to them — their voice, their tears, their feet and sometimes the nearest object.
Do not match their energy, which I understand is very hard at 7am when you have somewhere to be. But a dysregulated child needs a regulated adult. Be the calm in the room. Stay steady. Do not try to reason with them mid-meltdown. A flooded nervous system cannot logically process what you are saying, no matter how good your argument is. Just be present and quiet until it passes.
And then, when everyone has calmed down and their ‘thinking brain’ has switched back on, that is when the conversation happens. Name the behaviour simply and clearly, explain why it wasn't okay and try to find out what was going on for them underneath it. Building that awareness in them takes time and practice. A lot of practice.
There does need to be a consequence. Every time. Not a lecture, not a long list…just something simple, fair and related to what happened. Then hold the line on it, no matter what comes next. The most important part of the whole process is that your words hold meaning and you are consistent. Children actually crave predictability. Even when it really doesn't look like it.
Your child tells you something that is one hundred per cent absolutely fabricated. And you know it. They know you know it. They tell it anyway — often with extraordinary detail and total conviction.
Parents often come to me convinced something is deeply wrong. That their child is a compulsive liar with no moral compass.
What I usually say: congratulations. Your child's brain is developing normally.
Lying requires a remarkable set of cognitive skills — theory of mind (understanding that other people don't know what you know), forward thinking, creativity and working memory. Very young children actually can't lie convincingly because they don't yet understand that you have a different perspective to theirs. When they start lying, usually around three or four, it is actually a developmental milestone. I say that not to make it okay, but to take the panic out of it.
Don't treat every small lie like a moral catastrophe and don't shame them or call them a liar. Instead, make it consistently and calmly clear that honesty is expected and valued. And pay attention to how you respond when they do tell the truth, especially when it's hard. If honesty leads to a calm conversation and a fair consequence, they will lean toward it. If honesty leads to an explosion, they will learn to lie better. That one's on us, not them.
I always reminded my own kids of this timeless Mark Twain classic: "If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything." Not just for children, it turns out.
"I hate you." "You're the worst mum ever." "I wish I had a different family."
I have heard all of this, plus many bags packed for running away and several dramatic exits down the driveway, including one very memorable six-year-old who packed only toys, tripped on the footpath, grazed their knee and came flying back through the front door hysterical and needing a cuddle and a band-aid.
If you've heard any version of this, you are in excellent company. I sat with parents who had tears in their eyes over these words. Most of them were quietly terrified they had broken something permanent.
They hadn't.
"I hate you" almost always means "I am so frustrated and overwhelmed right now and you are the person I feel safest expressing that to."
Children reserve their worst behaviour for the people they feel safest with. It is not a coincidence that your child holds it together at school and falls apart at home. Home is where they feel safe enough to fall apart. That is a feature of childhood development, not a reflection of how you are doing.
I remember when my daughter used to snap at me I'd say to my husband, 'I do everything for her and she speaks to me in a way she'd never speak to anyone else.' He used to say, 'She does it to you because she knows you're not going anywhere no matter what.' He was right. Annoyingly.
Don't match the heat. Set the boundary, 'it's not okay to speak to me that way', without escalating. And do not withdraw your love as a consequence. One of the most powerful things you can say in response to 'I hate you' is 'I love you and nothing you say or do will ever change that.' Because what they are really testing is whether you're a stayer or a runner. Prove you're a stayer.
"She said she wasn't my friend anymore." "He told everyone not to play with me." "They were all whispering and I know it was about me."
I have spent over half my life watching children navigate friendships and I can tell you: it is genuinely hard work. The social landscape of childhood is complicated, shifting and sometimes brutal in ways that adults have mostly, mercifully, forgotten. Throw in social media, phones and
Raise your hand if you still hold a grudge on behalf of your child against their absolute BFF for something they did two years ago that your child has long since forgotten. (Hand raised here.)
They are children being children, testing people out and finding their place in the world. And my experience tells me that ninety-nine per cent of the time, the kids are over it and have moved on long before we have.
I talk about the difference between intervening and interfering. Sometimes intervening is exactly right — when something is genuinely bullying, when a child is really struggling and adults need to be involved. But interference — stepping in to sort it out, making the calls, removing all the friction — is different.
The most useful thing you can do is listen first. Actually listen, without already planning your response. Ask questions that help them think it through: what happened, how did it make them feel, what do they want to do about it, what do they need from you right now?
Children who learn to navigate conflict with support beside them — not someone clearing the path in front of them — become adults who can do the same. The friendship that breaks their heart at nine is important practice for the relationship that matters when they are twenty-nine.
This one genuinely worries parents. And it can be serious…I am not dismissing that.
If a child is consistently distressed about school, if there are physical symptoms like stomach aches or headaches that clear up the moment you say they can stay home, if something feels genuinely wrong — trust that instinct and investigate. Because if there is a real reason — they are scared, overwhelmed, not connected to their teacher or peers — that needs to be worked through, with the school, in partnership.
But often? A child who doesn't want to go to school on a Monday morning is a child who had a great weekend and would simply rather stay home. Sound familiar? Most adults feel the same about their own Monday mornings. We just don't get to act on it.
Acknowledge the feeling without validating the solution. 'I get it, Mondays are hard. Come on, let's go.' Warm, calm and matter-of-fact. Not an order, and not a lengthy negotiation about why school is important.
The consistency of going, even when it's hard for everyone involved, is part of what builds a child's understanding that hard things are survivable. That there are things in life we do even when we'd rather not. That not everything is optional or negotiable. That is a lesson for life, not just Monday mornings.
In twenty-five years, I sat across from thousands of parents. Exhausted, anxious, confused, guilty and convinced they were getting it wrong.
Almost none of them were getting it wrong.
The fact that you are asking 'is this normal?' tells me something important about you. It tells me you are paying attention. That you are present enough in your child's life to notice when something shifts. That you love them enough to worry.
Children do not need perfect parents. The research on this is clear. They need parents who are present, who are trying, who repair when they get it wrong, and who believe in their child's capacity to navigate the world. Who know the difference between support and rescue.
So the next time you find yourself at 11pm googling something your child did and wondering if it means something terrible, put the phone on the bedside table and sleep!
Almost certainly, it's normal.
And even if it isn't quite…you noticed. And that's where it always starts.
Lucy x
Lucy Loader is a former teacher, assistant principal and principal with 25 years in Victorian education. She holds a Masters in Educational Leadership and is writing a book on brave parenting. She writes at braveparenting.substack.com and posts daily at @braveparenting_ on Instagram.
A note: I have worked with hundreds of children who have different ways of learning and seeing the world. These situations and suggestions are broad strokes and individual circumstances often require a very different approach. I always come back to: you know your child best.
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