3 days ago
I no longer step in to stop my kids from fighting. Here's why a bit of sibling conflict is OK
One of my favourite scenes from the TV series Peaky Blinders is the part where Cillian Murphy's character, Thomas "Tommy" Shelby, gathers his gang members and lectures them on all the ways they are not to misbehave on the day of his wedding.
He points at each one and yells, "No fighting, no ****ing fighting, no fighting – NO ****ING FIGHTING!" before shoving a passing waiter and storming off in a huff.
As a parent of five kids, I know exactly how Tommy felt in that moment.
Anyone who has grown up with siblings knows that their unofficial job is to irritate you. Responsibilities of the role include taking your belongings without asking, hogging the toilet when you need it, and getting you in trouble just for fun.
Over the past 17 years, I've lost count of how many times I've said "no fighting" to my children Hayley, Theo, Finn, Kirsten and Truett.
Some of the gems I've heard in response include:
"Finn always gets to push the elevator buttons, it's my turn to do it!"
"Theo is copying me, make him stop!" (With Theo promptly echoing, "Theo's copying me, make him stop!")
And the most ludicrous one: "He's breathing near me, tell him to stop."
As the middle of three children, I grew up in a whirlwind of sibling rivalry – from fights in the car over who would get the front seat to being tattled on for skipping homework.
Now, as a parent, while I wish my children could get along all the time, I've realised that saying "no fighting" isn't realistic.
So now, instead of trying to play referee every time, I've chosen a new tactic to help them figure out how to deal with conflict: To take a step back.
Sounds counterintuitive? Hear me out.
FIGURING OUT WHAT'S FAIR
For any group of people living under the same roof, being in such close quarters for long periods makes it difficult not to step on each other's toes, sometimes literally.
Having grown up with an older brother and a younger sister, I know how hard it is not to compare everything. Maybe that's why the most common phrase my kids say when they fight is, "That's not fair!"
Sometimes, figuring out what's fair can be tricky, especially when one child feels they are not getting the same privileges as another sibling, or when one sibling gets to play with a toy before the others do.
In our house, the kids are allowed an hour of screen time each on weekends. The rule is that if they cannot agree on who goes first, nobody gets to use it at all.
To sort this out, my kids usually play a game of "rock, paper, scissors" to decide who gets the first go. My youngest child, nine-year-old Hayley, often loses at this and has to wait till the last turn.
One day, after yet another losing streak, Hayley protested: "It's not fair! If I didn't have so many siblings, I wouldn't have to wait for four hours."
Later that night, I asked her if she really did wish she had no siblings.
She stayed silent for a long time, clearly weighing the perks of being an only child.
"I don't know, it would be nice," she finally said. "But then no one would play with me, and I think I like having three brothers and one sister more."
I was relieved my rhetorical question didn't backfire, but I also appreciated her honesty.
As parents, we try our best to create a sense of fairness, even while knowing that true fairness is nearly impossible – at least not in the way kids perceive it.
When there are multiple children and limited resources, what often matters more than fairness is understanding, patience and compromise.
LETTING THEM WORK THINGS OUT
What complicates harmony at home, ironically, is the closeness we share. The deeper the bond, the more likely there is to be conflict.
My two younger boys, Finn and Theo, are probably the closest among my kids – now 13 and 11, they have been sharing a bed since they were four and two years old. Their relationship is borderline tumultuous, with them roasting each other and squabbling over everything.
Once, Theo was upset when Finn killed his character in the video game Roblox. Indignant, Finn said, "That's how the game works. You're supposed to fight each other!"
After some hurt feelings and tears, Finn apologised to Theo: "I'm sorry I killed you in Roblox. Don't be upset anymore, I can't go to sleep without you next to me."
With that, they made up and became best friends again.
So now, instead of preventing disagreements, we let them happen. And we let the kids attempt to fix it on their own as long as they follow these ground rules:
No physical fighting. Physical altercations get immediately red-carded and result in a withdrawal of screen time privileges for up to a week
No screaming because nobody understands what you're saying when you're hysterical.
It's okay to take a time-out to calm down, but conflicts need to be resolved and can't be left to fester.
WHAT DO THE KIDS GAIN FROM THIS?
Letting kids work out a compromise on their own allows them to practise conflict resolution skills, which they'll carry with them in other relationships and interactions as they grow up.
I have seen my children improve over the years – they have gotten better at expressing their feelings and negotiating with each other for a win-win outcome because they know that this is the best way to get what they want.
With every disagreement, they also learn a little bit more about each other.
For instance, Theo is deeply familiar with Finn's triggers and often comments – surprisingly insightfully – how 30 minutes of alone time is the best way to calm him down. In return, Finn will offer to fetch his brother snacks when he's "in rage mode".
Hayley's learning to wait her turn, and her siblings sometimes let her go first, even when they win at rock, paper, scissors.
Their fights are also opportunities to teach them the importance of treating others with kindness and patience.
Ultimately, that's what all this is for – not just to keep the peace now but also to help them build a relationship that lasts beyond their childhoods.
The bond that siblings share is something special. Our siblings see us at our best and our worst. They're the ones with whom we share not just space, possessions and conversations, but also the singular, sometimes complicated experience of being raised by the same imperfect parents.
Most of all, I hope that when my kids grow up, they'll have a bond forged not in the absence of conflict, but because of it – one that's messy, maddening but all the more stronger for it.
