The last time I wrote about my son, I was at my limit. To be honest, I was crashing out. My spirit was tired. Hearing anti-women statements and witnessing a deep level of disrespect from my 10-year-old was something my soul could not just let slide. I was furious, frustrated, and felt like I was failing.
For many of us, parenting, especially parenting our Black sons, is a constant navigation between wanting to protect their light and needing to hold them accountable. The world will demand so much of them, and our job is to prepare them for it—to raise them into conscious men who add to this world, not take from it.
So, we knew something had to change. Not just for him, but for the peace of our entire home.
We put a new behavior intervention plan in place, and the shift has been less about punishment and more about a fundamental recalibration of value. The old system, where he had a set amount of screen time each day, was over. Now, his access to his phone isn’t a given; it’s a currency he earns.
The system is simple, starting with small, achievable goals:
- A completed chore (a full load of laundry, washing the dinner dishes) = 30 minutes of phone time.
- A good day at school (no calls or texts home about his behavior) = 30 minutes of phone time.
That’s it. We started there. And it’s working.
Intellectually, we know this is how it’s supposed to work. Cause and effect. Action and consequence. But let’s be real—the consistent practice of it is where we get tripped up. Life is loud. There are other children, partners, pets, jobs, and the endless hum of our own anxieties competing for our attention. It’s so much easier, in a moment of exhaustion, to just hand over the tablet.
But this new way, this direct line between his attitude and his access, has been revolutionary. We haven’t achieved perfection, but perfection was never the goal. The goal was connection. The goal was respect.
What we’ve achieved is a renewed ability to speak to each other. We have clear, direct conversations about why his words matter and our non-negotiable need to protect and uplift women with our language and our actions. He’s learning that his effort has tangible value. We’ve also balanced this with ensuring he gets dedicated time with his friends, away from his younger twin siblings, which has given him the space to just be a kid his own age. Even he admits, in his own brief, 10-year-old way, that it’s helping.
These lessons feel especially urgent as the holiday season approaches.
I know I’m not the only one looking at the calendar with a knot in my stomach. Money is not stretching the way it did last year. The thought of Christmas morning brings a mix of joy and anxiety. So many of our families are in the same boat, wondering how we’ll make it all happen.
This is where I want to invite all of us to lean into this mindset. This isn’t about scarcity; it’s about principle. Let’s go back to the basics. Let’s make this a season of earning. Earning that screen time. Earning that new toy. Earning that thing you really want.
Because we have to hold two truths at once for our children. We must pour into them the belief that they can have anything they set their minds to. We want them to walk through the world feeling worthy and deserving of abundance and joy. But we must also teach them, with love and consistency, that nothing simply falls into your lap. Desire is not enough. Effort is the key that unlocks the door.
These small shifts in our daily routines—from demanding respect to creating systems where it’s earned—have the power to transform an anxious, stressful season into one that is a little more harmonious. It’s about teaching our children the invaluable connection between effort and reward, a lesson that will build their character long after the holiday lights come down. It’s how we find our peace and build their foundation, one chore at a time.
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