
A simple ritual to ease tricky conversations with your child
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If you’re a parent, you’ll know there are moments when your child suddenly opens up to you... and often when you least expect it. In the car, when you can’t make eye contact. At bedtime, when the lights are out and everything feels a little softer. Or halfway through stacking the dishwasher, when you’re only half-listening and suddenly realise you’ve just been handed a glimpse into their world.
And then there are the other times. The times when you want to connect, when you can sense something’s going on, but asking “what’s wrong?” only makes them shut down more.
For me, the solution started with a notebook. I’d write her a note or a prompt, and leave it on her pillow (often with words of encourage like 'Taylor Swift journals all the time!') She’d read it when she was ready, scribble back her own thoughts and leave it waiting for me to discover.
Something shifted.
The pressure was gone. She didn’t have to look me in the eye or find the right words on the spot. She could take her time, write when she felt like it and say the things that felt too big or too awkward to say out loud. And when I replied, she could sit with my words before deciding what to do with them.
That simple pass-back ritual became our bridge for trickier conversations.
Here’s what I’ve noticed it helps with:
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Easing into tough topics — Kids can write things down that they’d struggle to say out loud.
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Taking away the heat of the moment — Writing slows everything down, giving space for reflection instead of quick reactions.
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Building trust in small doses — One little note at a time adds up to something powerful.
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Creating a keepsake of resilience — Looking back at those entries later shows just how far we’ve both come.
Over time, our notebook turned into something more than just a place for hard conversations. It became a mix of everything. Jokes, doodles, dreams, worries and love notes. It made the tricky talks less scary because they were tucked inside all the everyday ones too.
That’s the beauty of the pass-back ritual: it isn’t about forcing big conversations. It’s about opening the door, gently, and letting them know you’re ready to listen — whether the page holds something silly, something serious, or something in between.