Supporting Tamariki Through Everyday Transitions

Imagine this: you finally get a moment to yourself. You've made a hot drink, you're curled into a comfy spot, and you're halfway through a chapter you've been trying to read for days. Your body settles, your shoulders drop, you're in it.

And then someone calls your name from the other room, asking you to get up right now to help with something.

Most of us wouldn't bounce up with a smile. We'd probably mutter something under our breath and grumpily shout out "what?", or maybe even pretend we didn't hear, because shifting gears when we're deeply focused is genuinely hard.

Our tamariki feel this too, only more intensely. Their brains are still developing the pathways that help them pause, switch tasks, and manage the emotional cost of change. So when they're happily playing, and we suddenly say, "Shoes on, we're going," it's no wonder their whole body reacts.

One of the most helpful things we can remember when our tamariki struggle with transitions is that it is not a behaviour problem; it’s a sign that  their brain and body are functioning exactly as they were designed to. They are not trying to "be difficult" or make your life hard; their nervous system is simply responding to the messages their brain is getting.

Why transitions are hard

Interrupting flow: When children are deeply absorbed in something they've chosen, such as self-directed play, their nervous system settles into a regulated state in which they're focused and engaged, and they often experience a sense of autonomy. Stopping this flow, shifting their attention and engaging with the new thing being asked of them is hard for a brain that is still developing. Let's be honest, it's even hard for those of us with a fully developed brain! Being asked to stop suddenly can feel jarring, like being pulled out of a warm pool into cold air.

Shifting gears: Transitions require the brain to move from one state to another, and that shift has a cost. As Dr Mona Delahooke explains, most children (and adults) find it stressful to move from something self‑directed to something they didn't choose. Their behaviour in these moments is their body managing the "price" of that shift, which neuroscientist Lisa Feldman Barrett calls the body budget. If their budget is already low (tired, hungry, overstimulated, or carrying an emotional load), even small transitions can feel huge.

Loss of control: When our children, especially our toddlers, sensitive children, or those already stressed, are in the "I choose what happens next" zone, their nervous system perceives safety. If there is a shift, especially a sudden one to "someone else is telling me what to do", their nervous system interprets that as a threat. The brain's protective pathways: fight, flight, or freeze kick in with this perceived loss of control. We might see running away, yelling, refusing, shutting down, or going quiet. These aren't behaviour problems; they're signs of a nervous system trying to regain a sense of safety.

Unpredictability and sensory load: Children cope best when they know what's coming next. When a transition arrives out of the blue or happens in a space that's loud, busy, or full of sensory input, their little systems can get overwhelmed really quickly. Unpredictability makes the brain work harder to stay safe, and sensory load drains their body budget even further. When their capacity is low, even familiar transitions can feel like too much.

When we look at moments like this using a nervous‑system lens, they make a lot more sense. Instead of seeing their behaviour as "They're just not listening," we can recognise a small person whose whole body is saying, "Whoa… that was a big shift, and I wasn't ready for it." And the lovely thing is, they don't need anything complicated from us to support them.

What can help in these moments

Once we understand what's happening in our tamariki's nervous system, we can meet these moments with less stress and more confidence.

Connection before direction: Before asking them to shift, take a moment to connect: get down to their level, use their name, touch a shoulder, or come close.

Predictability cues: Transitions go more smoothly when children have a sense of what's coming. One of the simplest ways to support this is to agree ahead of time on what will happen, especially for the transitions that are tricky in your whānau. You might talk it through together, make a little plan, agree on the words or signals you'll use, or even practise it beforehand.

Realistic expectations: Rather than expecting our tamariki to respond straight away to our cues the first time, giving them a moment to register the change and checking that they have registered it can make all the difference.

Co‑regulation: Staying close and keeping yourself calm tells their little nervous system all is well. (I know, this is not easy when you've really got somewhere you need to be and they're seriously dragging the chain!)

Choices: Offering small, genuine choices can give tamariki a little sense of control back. It doesn't have to be anything big, just simple, doable options like: "Do you want to walk to the bathroom, or would you like me to carry you?"; "Should we pack away the blocks first, or the animals?"

Little choices like this help them feel involved again, like they're part of what's happening, rather than having the change happen to them suddenly.

Humour and novelty: A little playfulness can shift the whole tone. You might imagine out loud your kiddo's ideal scenario as you're supporting the transition: "Imagine if we could stay at the park for the whole day and eat nothing but ice cream, then at night we could build a cosy hut to sleep in and invite all the possums to come cuddle up with us to keep us warm." This idea may sound counterintuitive, but believe me, it works like magic. Sometimes my son's and my fantasies lasted the whole drive home.

Empathy: Even when a transition is necessary, we can still honour their feelings and pace. A simple, "I know, it's hard to stop when you're having fun. I'll help you," acknowledges their experience and keeps the relationship at the centre.

 

Transitions will always be part of daily life, and they won't always go smoothly for our tamariki or for us.

But when we understand what's happening underneath the behaviour, it gets easier to meet these moments with a bit more patience, empathy, and connection. And over time, those repeated experiences build the skill and confidence they need to handle even big changes with greater ease.