Thursday, October 1, 2026
I walked into one of my favorite brunch spots in Woodbury with my two school-aged children in tow — one sleep-deprived from a sleepover and the other as hangry as a growing boy could be. As we opened the menus, I glanced anxiously at my children, both nearing meltdown territory. Then I noticed three children at the next table sitting in zombie-like states, staring at iPads propped between stacks of pancakes and waffles.
I thought, “It would be so easy to stop the crankiness with one swipe. Should we give them our phones so we can actually talk and enjoy brunch?” The exhausted mother in me was tempted. The clinical psychologist in me knew better: absolutely not.
For two decades I have worked with children, parents and families. Whether in my office, giving a speech, leading a workshop or discussing parenting on social media, I hear remarkably consistent hopes. Parents want their children to become happy, successful and independent adults. I would argue that happiness and success depend, at least in part, on independence. And one quality runs through all three — resilience.
Resilience is the ability to face stress, uncomfortable emotions and setbacks, recover from them, and trust in one’s capacity to manage challenges. But to develop resilience, children must first experience manageable amounts of stress, discomfort and disappointment. Without that crucial first step, resilience cannot grow.
Many Gen X and millennial parents have developed a pattern of removing obstacles for their children. We solve their problems, intervene in friendship conflicts and rush to relieve their boredom, frustration or sadness. Perhaps we’re trying to give them the support we wish we’d received. Perhaps family life is so busy that we simply don’t have time for a 20-minute meltdown. Or perhaps we’re unwilling to tolerate our own discomfort when we watch our children struggle. Whatever the reason, it’s time to look inward.
Rescuing children from every ordinary hardship may feel loving, and certainly makes life easier in the moment, but it can undermine their long-term development. When we routinely hand children a screen to help them escape an uncomfortable feeling or challenge, we remove an opportunity for them to practice coping.
Avoidance is the attempt to escape discomfort rather than learning to tolerate and work through it. It provides immediate relief, which is precisely why it’s so appealing. But that relief can reinforce avoidance, making children more likely to escape the next difficult experience instead of confronting it. Avoidance can be a resilience killer. It gives children permission to opt out of doing hard things and experiencing difficult emotions. It also deprives them of the opportunity to recover, one of the defining features of resilience.
When we turn on the TV, hand over an iPad or allow a teenager to scroll through social media whenever stress, boredom or frustration arises, the screen becomes an avoidance tool. The child may feel better temporarily, but misses the chance to discover, “This feeling is uncomfortable, but I can handle it.”
That discovery builds self-efficacy, the belief that we can take action, manage challenges and influence what happens next. Self-efficacy grows when children complete tasks, solve problems and move through challenges with independence. Two-year-olds may understand this better than we do when they insist, “I do it!” Beneath the defiance is a healthy developmental message: “Please step back long enough for me to discover what I can do.”
As a working mother, I understand that parents are tired, stressed and stretched thin. Screens make life easier in countless ways. I’m not recommending that families eliminate them. I’m urging parents to pause and consider when and why they’re being used. Is the screen providing intentional entertainment, connection or education, or is it being used to make an uncomfortable moment disappear?
The next time you feel tempted to hand over a screen to prevent boredom, frustration or a meltdown, pause. Your child may be unhappy for a few minutes. But in that small, imperfect moment, they may also begin learning something far more enduring: “I can handle this.”
Jolie Silva, Ph.D., is a clinical psychologist, chief operating officer of New York Behavioral Health and president of the North Shore Coalition Against Substance Abuse.
