When You Don’t Know What to Do… and You Do the Best You Can (with AI)

This is a personal story I lived some time ago with my little one. I’m sharing it because I’m sure it can help you, as it’s nothing more than one of those everyday moments that, although they look small on the outside, feel enormous on the inside. They are situations that, as parents, happen to us far more often than we’d like to admit.

I went to the park with my little one and, from home, he was very clear that he wanted to take his bike. Everything was going well until, once inside the lift, he decided he didn’t want it anymore and preferred to leave it behind. I went back, put it away, and we continued towards the park. A few minutes later, he started crying hard. He wanted his bike. It wasn’t a light or fleeting cry; it was real frustration, the kind that hits you deeply when you realise something isn’t turning out the way you expected.

I tried to support him the way we usually do when we want to parent with respect. First, I validated what he was feeling. I told him I understood that he was sad and that it was okay to feel that way. Then I tried to explain that leaving the bike had been his decision and that we weren’t going back for it. But the crying didn’t stop. He didn’t want to play, he didn’t want to be there, and little by little we, as parents, also started to feel emotionally overloaded. In fact, some tension began to grow between us about what the best decision was. I have to say it: his dad tends to give in a bit more; I’m probably “the bad cop.” At that point, I felt that nothing I was saying was getting through and, from my own exhaustion, I made a decision that felt reasonable at the time: going back home. I told him that if he didn’t want to be at the park, we would leave and wouldn’t go out again that day. In the end, it was a joint decision; the situation was overwhelming for both of us.

We got home. As soon as we walked in, he grabbed the bike and wanted to go out. His little eyes were full of excitement, because he clearly thought we had come back for it. At the door, in a soft voice, he said he was ready to go to the park. In that moment, I didn’t know what to do. My mind was saying “don’t do it, don’t give in,” but my heart, seeing his little face, wanted to run straight back to the park with him. At the same time, I was angry, irritated, exhausted. So I told him no — that I was sorry, that I had already said we weren’t going out again. Of course, he started crying again. But this cry was different: it was full of emotion, of deep frustration. That was when I felt completely lost. I doubted myself — whether I was being too strict or too soft, whether I was supporting him or simply imposing.

While he was crying, his dad and I sat down in the living room. We felt defeated by a decision that, in theory, could have been simple, but that in that moment we just couldn’t make. I remember saying, “I don’t want him to be sad, but I also don’t want him to think he can do this whenever he wants.” Because respectful parenting is not absolute freedom; it’s also about setting boundaries, and setting them with love. I didn’t know what to do. And then my husband said, “What if we ask ChatGPT?” I thought, how? Me — the one who reads about parenting, who writes about parenting — asking an AI? But the truth is, the background sound of intense crying is something I don’t recommend to anyone, so we needed a quick solution. I didn’t have the time or mental space to open books or revisit theories. I was so emotionally overwhelmed that, instead of finding a solution, I could barely think.

And yes, in that moment, I asked AI what to do. Not for it to decide for me, but because I needed help organising my thoughts when my emotions were already running high.

The answer was clear and, above all, honest. There were two possible paths. The first: to remain completely firm and not go out again that day, explaining that we would try again the next day so he could understand what had happened. The second: to hold the boundary but still go out, without negotiating with the crying, making the limits very clear and explaining that it wouldn’t become a repeated pattern.

I chose the second path. I asked him to go to his room, not as a punishment, but as a space to lower the intensity. I explained that when he stopped crying and felt ready, we would talk. When he calmed down, we sat and talked. I explained that I understood his frustration, but that what had happened wasn’t okay. That we would go to the park that day, but that it wouldn’t happen again. That if he made a similar decision another time, we wouldn’t go back. I asked him to return to his room and think about it a little more. He left with a little face full of real joy mixed with hope… and with the tears still very recent. And of course, that broke us inside. Can you imagine that scene? I remember it very clearly. It felt like a little one learning something difficult.

In that moment, I thought: it’s just a bad moment, a phase — it’s not who he is. How could something so small overwhelm us so much? But that’s parenting. Sometimes, small situations become huge simply because we don’t know what to do in the moment. In the end, we went out. And it worked.

So ChatGPT may not have the perfect answer, or be your personal psychologist, let alone a parenting expert, but it helped me with something very important: regulating myself first. And you know what? Maybe tantrums are not only about the little one; they are also about the adult. When a little one has a tantrum, they are not manipulating; they are overwhelmed, and they need an adult who can hold and manage emotions they still don’t know how to handle on their own. And even though, at the end of the day, we always want their happiness, we also understand that supporting and loving doesn’t mean saying yes to everything, but setting clear boundaries with calm, without fear, without shouting, and without guilt.

Using tools — books, professionals, or even artificial intelligence — doesn’t take away your intuition or judgement. Sometimes it simply gives you perspective when you are tired and emotionally involved. Validating is not giving in. Firmness is not punishment. Authority is not rigidity. And respectful parenting, many times, is not about knowing exactly what to do, but daring to pause, think… and try again.