Hacking My Son's Bath Time With Science
How a Simple Conversation with Himself Changed Our Family Routine
Bath time was once a full-scale operation in our house that could occupy a perplexing 1.5 hours of our evening. It was as if time itself slowed down once our nearly 10-year-old son stepped into the bathroom. The process had so many stipulations—from the sequence of steps to specific preferences—that handling it without a parental "coach" was unthinkable for him. He'd stall, get distracted, and essentially hit a productivity wall. This dilemma led to late bedtimes and considerable frustration for everyone involved, echoing my wife's own childhood struggles with the same issue. Her parents had resorted to yelling and eventually threw in the towel, resulting in sleep deprivation for her. The saga seemed to be repeating itself with our son.
Despite our creative efforts, such as my wife's time-bound checklist, the only thing that proved consistent was its inconsistency. The novelty wore off quickly. Yet, I knew from experience that when truly motivated, he could wrap things up in just 5 minutes.
Inspiration came from an unlikely source: a book about consciousness I was reading ('On Consciousness' by Bernard Baars). It referenced a 1971 study by Meichenbaum and Goodman about "inner speech" training for impulsive children. Although it was very sparse on details, and I couldn’t access the full text, some quick online searching and consultation with ChatGPT gave me enough to hatch a plan.
Let's dig into the brain science a bit. The crux of executive functions like impulse control lies in the prefrontal cortex (PFC), a fascinating region that takes an astonishing 25 years to mature. This prolonged development period is especially surprising when you consider that human children are born virtually helpless, in stark contrast to, say, a young horse that can run within two hours of birth. Theoretically, there's nothing preventing the human brain from maturing more quickly, so this slow development must confer some evolutionary advantages. As elaborated by Robert Sapolsky in 'Behave,' this lengthy maturation period allows the PFC to be shaped more by life experiences than genetic hardwiring. Intriguingly, a child's PFC actually has more, not fewer, connections than an adult’s, and its maturation involves a 'pruning' process to eliminate redundant links.
For children like my son, their underdeveloped PFC makes it hard to focus on complex tasks. And since their own cognitive "executive" is still in training, they borrow ours. When my son would call out for coaching during his bath, he was essentially offloading work from his fledgling PFC to mine. This cognitive double-duty might explain why parenting can be so mentally draining.
Aware of this, I proposed a new strategy to my son: coach yourself aloud during the bath. Despite his skepticism and raised eyebrows, he agreed to humor me for the sake of 'science'—I told him we were essentially attempting to replicate the research to see if it held water. The result was jaw-dropping—for both of us. He finished in 7 minutes, and after a few days, he didn't even need to speak aloud.
The science behind this probably relates to the development of inner speech, which involves the dorsal medial prefrontal cortex as part of the Default Mode Network (DMN). Before the age of 4-5, children often verbalize their thoughts aloud. This 'private speech' (directed at themselves) gradually internalizes during early school years, forming the inner monologue most adults are familiar with. Interestingly, children are capable of executing tasks under adult guidance much earlier than they can perform them independently. My hypothesis is that speaking aloud enabled my son to engage his auditory cortex, possibly leveraging pathways that are developed for following adult direction, thereby bypassing some of the limitations of his still-developing DMN.
While the immediate benefit of more efficient bath times is undeniably refreshing, the more profound and lasting victory is in the realm of self-empowerment. My son has gained an invaluable lesson: his brain is not just a static, predetermined organ he's stuck with. Rather, it's a dynamic entity that can be consciously influenced, nurtured, and even molded by applying scientific insights. He's learning that he has a tangible role to play in shaping his own cognitive development, much like how exercise shapes muscles. The realization that he has the agency to affect the very wiring of his brain is not just empowering; it's transformative. And that's a lesson worth taking to heart.
As some of you might have noticed, I decided to change the name of the newsletter – “Ryszard’s Substack” sounded a bit too default.