I still remember exactly what it feels like to stand in the middle of a grocery store, at a playground, or at a bus stop while your child screams at full volume. Very few things can throw a nervous system into emergency mode quite that fast. And as if feeling awful on the inside weren't enough, there's also the audience — every set of eyes in the room landing squarely on you. Each look seems to say the same thing:
"Why can't you control that child?"
Here's the thing: you are controlling it. Parenting is happening, exactly the way it should — even when it makes everyone around you uncomfortable. Because sometimes children scream. That's just the truth.
What we call a "tantrum" is actually part of a completely normal stage of development. A child's brain is still growing, their nervous system is still maturing, and things that seem utterly trivial to us — a cracker that broke in half, not being allowed to press the elevator button, getting the wrong color cup — are genuine, overwhelming tragedies to them. Not because they're spoiled. Not because they're manipulating you. But because that's genuinely all their nervous system can handle right now.
Knowing that is easy. Living it is something else entirely.
Because while you're trying to be an emotional anchor for your child, everything is firing inside you too. The crying can pull up your own long-buried wounds, your tension, your shame, the crushing need to seem like you have it together. That feeling that every stranger is judging your worth as a parent.
And while you'd honestly love to burst into tears yourself, you have to hold it together on the outside — because that's exactly what your child needs most in this moment.
They need a calm adult whose steadiness they can grab onto like a lifeline while their own storm passes.
Emotional regulation
This is why I'm genuinely stunned when someone walks up to a struggling mom and says, "My child never did anything like that," or proudly announces that one sharp look was all it ever took to restore peace.
If your child truly never once fell apart in public, I'd gently suggest you don't rub that in other parents' faces. And I'm sorry to break this to you, but it doesn't mean you raised some kind of miracle child or that you were the undisputed queen of motherhood.
What it's far more likely to mean is that your child didn't feel safe enough around you to let those feelings show. Which means they never actually learned to regulate their emotions — only to suppress them. From the outside, suppression looks tidy. Quieter. Much less awkward for the people standing in line behind you.
But suppressed feelings don't disappear just because they're hidden
So before anyone starts judging a desperate mother in a checkout line, it might be worth a moment of honest reflection. And if it's genuinely true — not just nostalgia smoothing out the memories — that your now-adult child never once made a scene anywhere, I'd suggest asking them whether you can help cover their therapy bills. Because I can almost guarantee they're in therapy, or they should be. They just probably haven't mentioned it to you.
Yes, that's a pointed thing to say. But I think it's time we let go of the idea that a well-raised child is one who never inconveniences anyone.
To me, a well-supported child is one who feels safe enough to show their hardest feelings to the adult they trust — even when it's deeply uncomfortable for everyone in the vicinity.
So what can the rest of us actually do?
Honestly? Not much. We are not going to fix a stranger's child mid-meltdown. There's no magic sentence that makes it all okay. Most of the help we can offer isn't even directed at the child. It's directed at the mom.
So when I find myself in that situation, I try to not stare. I don't roll my eyes. I don't sigh loudly for the room to hear. Instead, I catch the mother's eye and give her a warm smile as I pass by. If the moment allows it, I'll lean in and quietly say, "You're doing great."
That's it.
Because I know exactly what it feels like to be standing there.
I know how hard it is to stay calm in that moment. But I also know that sometimes a single empathetic glance is enough to remind someone: I'm not alone. Every other parent goes through this. I haven't done anything wrong. The meltdowns were simply part of the package — right alongside the soft cuddles, the drawings stuck to the fridge, and those impossibly sweet gummy smiles — that we signed up for the day we became parents.
Is a tantrum a sign of bad parenting?
No. Tantrums are a normal part of early childhood development. They happen because a child's brain and nervous system are still maturing, not because a parent has done something wrong.
What should you do if your child has a meltdown in public?
Try to stay as calm as possible and be a steady, reassuring presence for your child. Your composure gives them something to anchor to while the emotional storm passes. Try not to let the perceived judgment of strangers escalate your own stress.
Should a child who never has tantrums be seen as a sign of great parenting?
Not necessarily. A child who never visibly falls apart may have learned to suppress emotions rather than express and regulate them — which can have longer-term emotional consequences.
What can bystanders do to help?
The most powerful thing a bystander can do is offer a warm, non-judgmental look or a quiet word of encouragement to the parent. Avoiding stares, eye-rolls, or audible sighs makes a real difference to someone who's already struggling.
