What if we could stop labelling behaviour as the problem?
Over the years, I have lost count of the number of parents who have brought me their “problem child,” or a child they believe to have a problem. Some years ago, I stepped away from working directly with children and began focusing instead on helping parents see both themselves and their children through a different lens.
One of the most important shifts we can make in how we understand children is recognising that behaviour is not the problem, but rather the expression of a nervous system state. According to Polyvagal Theory, much of our experience revolves around an underlying question—Am I safe? When a child feels safe, their system is organised for connection, allowing them to listen, learn, cooperate, and recover from stress. Importantly, this is equally true for the parent.
Consider the familiar moment when milk is spilt just before leaving for school and an angry outburst erupts. This response is not random; it has a nervous system origin. Anger is an adaptive response to perceived threat, and that threat may take many forms—loss of control, fear of being late and its consequences, or even a deeper sense of “I’m not good enough.” In this context, anger emerges as the body’s attempt to change the situation or influence another person’s behaviour. While such responses are not a personal failing—they reflect the nervous system doing its best to adapt—we are still responsible for what follows. For parents, that responsibility begins with understanding why these behaviours arise in the first place.
When a child feels unsafe, their system shifts into protection. What we often interpret as defiance, opposition, or “bad behaviour” is, in fact, the nervous system doing its job. Whether we are considering the child’s behaviour or the parent’s reaction, the underlying process is the same; however, adults typically have a greater capacity to reflect on these internal states and, at times, regulate their responses. This helps explain why many well-intentioned parenting strategies fall short, as they attempt to correct behaviour without recognising the physiological state that is driving it.
The science of Adverse Childhood Experiences, led by researchers such as Vincent J. Felitti, has shown us that early experiences play a significant role in shaping long-term health and wellbeing. Polyvagal Theory extends this understanding by helping us see how these experiences are carried within the body. A child who has learned that the world is unpredictable or unsafe will not respond to reasoning, consequences, or rewards in the same way as a child who feels secure—not because they are unwilling, but because, in that moment, they are unable. This is not a cognitive choice, and it helps explain why strictly behavioural approaches have produced mixed results.
If that perspective feels provocative, it is worth reflecting on a broader question: are mental health outcomes for children, adolescents, and adults improving, or are they continuing to decline? For several decades, there has been a strong emphasis on cognitive strategies to change behaviour, yet if behaviour were simply a matter of choice, we would have to assume that children deliberately set out each day to challenge their parents. A more accurate interpretation is that their nervous system is prioritising survival over connection, even when this leads to socially challenging behaviour. In these moments, survival will always take precedence over social engagement.
To bring this into a practical context, consider a child who refuses to get ready for school. From the outside, this may appear as avoidance or oppositional behaviour, often leading to a battle of wills and the familiar question, “What is wrong with this child?” However, if we pause and instead ask, What is this child’s nervous system experiencing right now?, a different understanding begins to emerge. The child may be experiencing anxiety about the classroom, carrying overwhelm from the previous day, or starting the morning already in an activated state. In some cases, the child may not feel safe, and their body’s adaptive response is to resist, withdraw, or express anger in an attempt to reduce the perceived threat of attending school. When this pattern has been present for some time, the child may move quickly into shutdown, conserving energy rather than engaging.
In these states, increasing pressure will typically escalate the response, whereas conveying cues of safety can begin to soften it. This is where a fundamental shift occurs. When we move our focus from behaviour to nervous system state, our role as parents changes from managing behaviour to supporting regulation. In practice, this may involve slowing our voice and body, offering presence before instruction, reducing demands in moments of overwhelm, and allowing connection to come before correction. These are not permissive responses; rather, they are biologically informed responses that align with how the nervous system functions.
As Stephen W. Porges has emphasised, we cannot think our way into safety. For children, safety emerges in the presence of an adult who is able to convey it. When a child’s nervous system begins to feel safe again, their capacity for cooperation, learning, and connection returns with it.
Ultimately, this is a small but important shift. We are not ignoring behaviour; we are seeking to understand what lies beneath it. When we respond at that level, meaningful change begins to occur—not only in the child, but in the relationship itself.