Your child is crying. Maybe they dropped their ice cream cone, lost a game, or got told no to something they desperately wanted. Your instinct kicks in, and before you even think about it, the words tumble out of your mouth: “You’re okay, you’re okay.”
It feels like comfort. It sounds like reassurance. But here’s the thing that stopped me in my tracks when I first learned it: those seven little words might actually be teaching our kids to distrust their own feelings. To stuff them down. To believe that what they’re experiencing isn’t real or valid.
I know that’s not what any of us intend. We say it because we love them and we want to soothe them. But what if there’s a better way?
Why “you’re okay” feels right but lands wrong
When we tell a crying child “you’re okay,” we’re trying to help them regulate. We want them to feel better, and fast. There’s nothing wrong with that impulse. It comes from a place of deep love and a genuine desire to protect our kids from pain.
But consider what the child is actually experiencing in that moment. Their body is flooded with big feelings. Their heart is racing, their tears are real, and their distress is genuine. Then the person they trust most in the world looks at them and essentially says, “What you’re feeling isn’t happening.”
As noted by Dr. Becky Kennedy, clinical psychologist and founder of Good Inside, “When we tell kids they’re okay when they’re clearly not okay, we’re asking them to choose between their own experience and our version of reality.”
Over time, this creates confusion. Kids start to wonder if they can trust their own internal signals. And that’s the foundation of emotional intelligence we’re accidentally chipping away at.
The message our kids actually hear
Children are literal creatures. When Milo falls and scrapes his knee and I rush over saying “you’re okay, you’re okay,” he hears exactly that. You are okay. This thing that feels huge and scary and painful to you? It’s nothing. You shouldn’t be upset.
Kids don’t have the developmental capacity to understand that we mean “you will be okay” or “this isn’t dangerous.” They hear “your feelings are wrong.” And when they hear that message enough times, they start to believe it.
This is how we accidentally raise children who struggle to identify their emotions, who feel ashamed of crying, who grow into adults who say things like “I don’t know why I’m upset” or “I shouldn’t feel this way.” The roots of emotional disconnection often trace back to these small, well-intentioned moments.
What happens in the brain when feelings get dismissed
There’s actual science behind why dismissing emotions backfires. When a child is upset, their amygdala, the brain’s alarm system, is activated. They’re in a stress response. What helps calm that response is co-regulation: the presence of a calm, attuned adult who acknowledges what’s happening.
Research from the Yale Center for Emotional Intelligence has shown that children who learn to recognize and name their emotions develop better coping skills, stronger relationships, and improved academic performance. But that learning can only happen when emotions are validated first.
When we skip validation and jump straight to “you’re okay,” we’re essentially asking a child to calm down without giving them the tools to do so. We’re telling them to stop feeling before they’ve had a chance to process. The feeling doesn’t go away. It just goes underground.
The long game of emotional suppression
I think about this a lot when I watch Ellie navigate friendships and disappointments. At five, she’s learning so much about how to handle big feelings. Every time she comes to me upset, I have a choice. I can help her build a healthy relationship with her emotions, or I can accidentally teach her that some feelings aren’t welcome.
Kids who consistently hear “you’re okay” when they’re not okay learn to perform okayness. They smile when they’re sad. They say “I’m fine” when they’re falling apart inside. They become adults who don’t know how to ask for help because they’ve internalized the message that needing help means something is wrong with them.
This isn’t about being dramatic or catastrophizing a common parenting phrase. It’s about recognizing that small moments add up. The way we respond to our children’s tears shapes how they’ll respond to their own emotions for the rest of their lives.
What to say instead
The good news is that shifting our language doesn’t require a complete overhaul. It’s about making small adjustments that honor what our child is experiencing while still providing comfort and safety.
Instead of “you’re okay,” try “I see you’re really upset.” This simple acknowledgment does something powerful. It tells your child that their feelings make sense, that you’re paying attention, and that they’re not alone in this moment.
You can also try “That was really hard” or “You’re having a big feeling right now” or simply “I’m here.” These phrases validate without dismissing. They create space for the emotion to exist without judgment.
Dr. Dan Siegel, clinical professor of psychiatry at UCLA and author of The Whole-Brain Child, describes this as “name it to tame it.” When we help children identify and acknowledge their emotions, we actually help their brains process those feelings more effectively. The emotion moves through them rather than getting stuck.
Holding space without fixing
One of the hardest parts of this shift is resisting the urge to fix. When our kids hurt, we hurt. We want to make it better immediately. But sometimes the most loving thing we can do is simply be present with them in the discomfort.
This doesn’t mean we let them spiral or that we never offer perspective. It means we lead with validation. We acknowledge first, then we can gently help them problem-solve or see another angle. The order matters.
I’ve noticed that when I sit with Milo during a meltdown and just say “I know, buddy. That’s so frustrating,” he actually calms down faster than when I try to talk him out of his feelings. It’s counterintuitive, but meeting him where he is helps him move through it.
When they really are okay
Of course, there are moments when our kids genuinely are okay and just need a little reassurance. A tiny tumble that scared them more than hurt them. A brief moment of worry that passes quickly. Context matters, and you know your child best.
The difference is in how we deliver the message. Instead of “you’re okay” as a dismissal, we can check in first. “That was a big fall! Are you hurt?” Let them tell you. Let them assess their own body and feelings. Then you can offer comfort based on what they actually need.
This approach builds body awareness and emotional literacy. It teaches kids to tune into themselves rather than looking to others to define their experience. That’s a skill that will serve them well into adulthood.
Giving yourself grace in the process
If you’re reading this and feeling a wave of guilt about all the times you’ve said “you’re okay,” please take a breath. I’ve said it too. Probably this week. We’re all doing our best with the tools we have, and the fact that you’re here, thinking about this, means you care deeply about your child’s emotional wellbeing.
Parenting is not about perfection. It’s about awareness and intention. It’s about noticing patterns and gently shifting them when we learn something new. Your child doesn’t need you to be flawless. They need you to be present, to keep trying, and to repair when you miss the mark.
The beautiful thing about children is their resilience and their capacity for connection. Every interaction is a new opportunity. You can start validating emotions today, right now, in the very next moment your child comes to you with tears in their eyes.
Closing thoughts
Those seven words, “you’re okay, you’re okay,” come from such a tender place. We say them because we love our children and we want to protect them from pain. But real protection means teaching them that all their feelings are welcome, that they can trust their own experience, and that we’ll be there to help them navigate whatever comes up.
Next time your child is crying, try pausing before the automatic response kicks in. Take a breath. Look at them. And instead of telling them what they are, ask yourself what they need. Usually, it’s just to be seen. To be heard. To know that their big feelings won’t scare you away. That’s the gift we can give them, one small moment at a time.
