Time In Works Because We Do It
There’s a parenting tool I wish came with a more exciting, sparkly name. Something that sounds like it was invented in a mountain retreat by a very calm person wearing linen.
Instead, it’s called Time In.
And maybe it’s kind of perfect, because Time In is exactly what it sounds like: time in relationship with your child. Not Time Out. Not time correcting. Not time teaching. Not time asking leading questions like, “Do you think maybe there was a better choice you could have made?”
Time In is positive, noncontingent, one-on-one attention given to your child simply because they exist. That’s it.
No agenda. No lesson. No “I’m doing this so later you’ll stop screaming about socks.”
Time In works because we do it. Not because we expect to see change in our children.
That part matters a lot, because the minute Time In becomes a strategy we use so that our children will behave, it stops being Time In and becomes a behavior management technique wearing a fake mustache.
Kids can feel that.
Especially complicated kids whose internal radar systems can detect adult agendas from three rooms away.
Time In is not:
“I will play with you for 20 minutes so that you are more compliant at dinner.”
Time In is:
“I am with you. I like being with you. I enjoy you.”
That’s the whole assignment.
Now, does behavior sometimes improve when families practice Time In consistently? Absolutely. But improved behavior is a byproduct, not the direct result we are chasing.
We don’t do Time In so our children will behave. We do Time In to connect.
And when children feel connected, they feel better. When they feel better, they are more regulated. When they are more regulated, they have more access to the parts of their brain that allow them to cooperate, problem-solve, tolerate disappointment, and not lose their ever-loving minds because the banana broke in half.
Connection first. Feeling better second. Behavior better third (and as a by-product).
In that order.
So what does Time In actually look like?
It looks like setting aside 15 minutes, turning off your phone, and joining your child in whatever they’re already doing. Blocks? Great. Bugs? Lovely. Extremely complicated pretend game involving a dragon, three spoons, and a legal dispute between stuffed animals? Sure. We ride at dawn.
Your job is to follow. Not improve. Not redirect. Not teach them how to build the tower “so it won’t fall.” Not ask, “What color is that?” as if you’re running a very tiny standardized test.
You can narrate what you see: “You’re stacking that one so carefully.” “That truck is going right through the mud.” “You made the dragon the boss of everyone.”
Or, for kids who find words annoying, fake, or too much, just sit there with appreciative presence.
That counts.
Here are two things to try this week:
First, choose a realistic Time In window. Not the fantasy version where everyone is well-rested and the kitchen is clean. Pick 10-15 minutes when you can actually be undistracted. Tell your child, “This is my special time with you,” and then protect it like it matters. Because it does.
Second, practice the hardest part: no questions, no commands, no teaching. For many of us, this will feel physically uncomfortable. We are so used to parenting as managing. But Time In gives both of you a break from all that. For a few minutes, your child does not have to answer, comply, perform, learn, or improve.
They just get to be.
And you get to enjoy them.
Which, for many of us, is the piece that gets buried under the lunches, the therapies, the school emails, the sibling fights, the bedtime negotiations, and the deep moral injury of stepping on a Lego.
Time In reminds us that our children are not a collection of behaviors to manage. They are people we are in relationship with.
If Time In feels hard to start, or if your relationship with your child has gotten buried under conflict, I’d love to help you find your way back to connection. Schedule a 1:1 coaching session with me and we’ll talk through what’s happening in your house and what might help.
Time In is simple, not always easy, but very, very worth doing.
xo G