My wife called me the other night while I was pulling up for a back to school event.

My wife called me the other night while I was pulling up for a back to school event.

My oldest, my hypersocial hyperactive, had designed a driving itinerary for her, so he could spend an hour with his buddies across town.

She was peeved, rightfully so, “He just was like ‘Okay, so you can drive me there after you drop him at practice, then…’ and I was like ‘What do you think this is?!”

After a brief spat, he cancelled his request for the Uber and settled in to his homework. Grinding his teeth, shoulders slumped, defeated and deflated because his airtight, perfectly reasonable plans to socialize after school didn’t come true.

Our middle school kids will make these completely oblivious, socially insensitive, borderline disrespectful demands of us in the name of their priorities. We call them out and they crash out, insisting we aren’t supportive and don’t get it.

“Dad, I need this new sweatshirt.” “Let me see? $124 for a hoodie? Sorry.” “SERIOUSLY!?”

“Mom, I need your phone. “Not right now, I’m working, honey.” “OHMAGOHDD.”

“Can you drive me to their house?” “UH, it’s 7 o’clock? Who is making these plans?” “YOU NEVER LET ME DO ANYTHING.”

Their lack of awareness, empathy and understanding of our demands is an expression of their drive for belonging and status. It blinds their higher order thinking. Because for a middle schooler, belonging and status are akin to food and shelter. My son wasn’t just looking for a ride, he was looking for a reminder and affirmation that he was safe when he couldn’t see his friends.

But it doesn’t change the fact that my wife couldn’t taxi him across town while his brother was at soccer, another was doing homework, and I was at back-to-school night. And it doesn’t mean we don’t expect him to be aware, understanding, and adaptable.

When we meet them with, “What don’t you understand?!” We should expect the same question to fire back at us.

Meeting in the middle requires our understanding of their priorities, but their understanding of our boundaries and limitations.

We accept their instincts, then ask for their design. Because adaptability isn’t just based in their willingness to accept disappointment, it’s built through their ability to design a new direction. And coping is easier when they have the creative capability to pivot.

That’s the adaptability that transfers beyond the social.

“Coach won’t even put me in the game. It’s pointless.”

“That hurts. What skill do you think would get you there?”

Or

“I do not get this homework. It’s so annoying.”

“Sounds hard. Should we contact your teacher tonight? Note the part that doesn’t make sense?”

Or

“You’re never going to buy me those shoes.”

“I could split them with you, how can you earn that money?”

Learning to accept disappointment is part of life, but the most agile and effective way to do that is to define your next step.

This weekend try this:

When your kid comes to you with a half-baked idea, put it back in the oven with them. Help them process, plan, and execute. Or if you have to hand over the disappointment, and are met with arguments, complaints and emotion. Just say, “I hear you, so you tell me what we do instead?” Hand them the pen.