Yelling Never Worked. This Did.

On connection, trust, and a comically large to-do list

Photo by Vitaly Gariev on Unsplash

I had this great conversation with my son the other day, and he totally surprised me.

We were on his bed, just talking.

Two hours later, we were still going — the kind of conversation you can’t plan and can’t rush.

And because we were really connecting, because there was trust and we both felt safe enough to be open, I took the opportunity.

“Hey, let’s talk about the plates on your desk. Can you help me understand why you don’t bring them to the kitchen?”

A stack of plates had been sitting next to his computer for 2 days.

Something I couldn’t ignore every time I passed by but resisted the urge to remind him or put them away for him.

Because the real question underneath it wasn’t about the plates at all.

It was — Does he even notice? Does he care?

I shared that I never leave a room empty handed. That I scan, I notice.

I’ve taught him that.

Many times. We’ve practiced.

And yet it hasn’t been consistent.

To be honest, he’s been my greatest challenge in developing the Dooley Method. The code I keep trying to crack.

He’s 12, so I get that it’s normal to push back.

Still, I know he’s capable because he volunteered at school to take the lunch basket back to the cafeteria every day.

But at home, we’re still looking for that internal motivation.

Troubleshooting together, no ideas off the table.

In the Dooley Method, I advise parents to treat every problem like a science experiment — test a hypothesis, see what works, try again.

We talked about the different ways we’ve tried, and how a sticky note didn’t work for him.

I joked about using a poster board that’s too big to ignore and we both laughed.

But he was in.

I left him to it.

The next morning I walked into his room and saw it on the floor.

He’d written on an old presentation board himself. Reset the bedroom. Reset the desk. And at the bottom: Give love to the dog.

I smiled. Not only that he included something meaningful, but that he used the word “reset.”

I had expected him to list specifics like make the bed or take the plates to the kitchen.

Instead he wrote the word that we use to capture everything at once.

He understood what it meant — not just the word, but the whole idea behind it.

Will the poster board work?

I honestly don’t know yet, but I’m proud of our open conversation and his willingness to try.

Our kids aren’t wired for one idea, one conversation, one solution.

Learning takes time and consistent support. Motivation has to come from within. Habit forms when development catches up and something finally clicks.

I know he’d get it done right away if I’d offer some type of reward or told him no device time until he put his plates away.

But I'm in this for the long game, trusting that his internal wiring will make the connection — why it benefits him to have a clean desk, so the dishes get cleaned on time, so he can reclaim the space to do his work without visual clutter.

I know he can do it because there are many examples where I no longer have to remind him at all.

Learning isn’t linear. But every step gets him closer.

What I do know is that the connection we had that night — that’s what made any of it possible.

Not the poster board.

The connection is the one thing I know works better than anything else for cooperation.

Is that your experience as well?

I share stories like this because I want to show up as my authentic self with the families I work with. I do this work not because I’ve got it down with my kids, but because I’ve learned how to slow down the urgency and need for perfection so connection can happen.

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What if your home was easier to maintain?

I work with families in an intuitive, organic way — building connection while everyone learns the skills to care for their home together. If you’ve been struggling with organizing at home with your kids, I'd love to talk.