I was brimming with excitement, walking into the O2 in London for a gig with my partner, when I saw something that stopped me in my tracks. 

A child screaming on the floor by the entrance.

It was pouring with rain, as he lay on his back on the ground, crying in distress, seemingly alone and inconsolable. 

My heart broke. 

He couldn’t have been much older than my son – perhaps two. 

I felt a panic rise in me – it seemed like he was hurt or needed someone to protect him – and with the rest of the crowd ignoring him, I rushed over, preparing to put my own ‘gentle parenting’ approach into action, even with someone else’s child. 

But before I reached the boy, a woman walked up, glanced momentarily at me, then shouted at him before turning her back and walking away. 

It took me a moment to realise that the woman was his mum and that leaving him to cry in the rain alone seemed to be her way of teaching him a lesson. 

I can’t know for sure the exact circumstances that occurred – but I know that nothing could ever make me leave my own child crying alone in the rain, especially at such a young age. 

The incident, and the woman’s shouty reaction, put me in mind of a child-rearing style called authoritarian parenting.

That’s where parents rely on punishments and threats to manage behaviour without explaining the reasons behind them. The focus is on compliance instead of guidance. 

It is in my opinion the worst, most harmful form of raising your children. 

I’m a gentle parent – I see my son, first and foremost, as a person deserving of love and respect. I combine warm emotional responsiveness with firm, consistent boundaries.

When I was pregnant, I’d read several books about the importance of responding to a child’s emotional needs, which is why I decided it was the way I would raise my child.

If my toddler, for example, has a meltdown over having to put on clothes after a bath, I understand, because at his age, small things are huge.

I need to be his safe space.

That way, when he grows up, he will feel like he’s able to come to me with the ‘big things’ – like bullying at school or a heartbreak. As a parent, I need to be this person for my child.

Obviously I have some age-appropriate rules – no standing on the dining table, no biting or pinching. 

The techniques I have used don’t involve any yelling. For example, I didn’t tell my son off whenever he bit me. Instead, I told him that ‘biting hurts’, stopped the fun and sat apart from him for a few seconds. He whined and protested but after a few days, the biting had stopped. 

He understood his actions benefited neither him nor me, and now our relationship is stronger. 

Yet people I know are still pushing punishment as a form of parenting.

A friend without a child once told me ‘children should be raised with fear’ because that’s how they were raised. But I’ve seen this friend lose their temper, on multiple occasions.

A family friend who doesn’t have a close relationship with their own children has rolled their eyes when I’ve taken my crying baby from their arms. They disapproved of me ‘making a fuss’ every time he cried – claiming that when their children were left to cry it out, they turned out fine. 

It’s easy to feel pressured that your child should behave a certain way, especially in a society that is intolerant to children but babies need time and support to process big feelings just like anyone else.

Leaving a baby to ‘cry it out’ – which is a technique in authoritarian parenting, where you leave a baby alone to cry until they stop on their own – is not good for their development, physically or emotionally. 

So when I saw this child outside the O2, on the ground, crying and miserable, white hot fury unfurled in my stomach.

I walked up to him and knelt down beside the toddler and gently asked if he was okay. 

The sight of a stranger caused him to immediately stand up and walk in the direction of his parents, all while continuing to sob uncontrollably.

So, I decided to walk, albeit distanced, alongside the toddler until we reached his parents, who had eventually stopped up ahead.

I was enraged that they expected their toddler to find his own way to them. Even the sight of a stranger walking beside their child didn’t phase these parents. 

Biting back the expletives I wanted to hurl at them, I asked them if he was their son. 

The mother simply nodded, while the toddler stood next to me, still crying. 

No one moved or made an effort to console him. 

Their indifference registered as cruelty to me. 

‘How could you leave him like that?’ I managed. The dad glared at me, furious that I asked, eventually replying with ‘he’s my child’.

Knowing that this conversation would lead nowhere I turned around to walk away.

I tried to remove the image of their crying child from my mind, but as I sat at the bar with a beer and waited for my gig to start, all I could think about was how the boy was feeling.

No mum or dad can meet their child’s needs 100% of the time but it makes me sad to see parents who look like they aren’t even trying. 

Real parenting requires sacrifice, presence and a lot of work. 

But it is worth it if it means raising a child who feels loved.

Originally published March 8, 2026 

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Ross.Mccafferty@metro.co.uk. 

Share your views in the comments below.

I was brimming with excitement, walking into the O2 in London for a gig with my partner, when I saw something that stopped me in my tracks. 

A child screaming on the floor by the entrance.

It was pouring with rain, as he lay on his back on the ground, crying in distress, seemingly alone and inconsolable. 

My heart broke. 

He couldn’t have been much older than my son – perhaps two. 

I felt a panic rise in me – it seemed like he was hurt or needed someone to protect him – and with the rest of the crowd ignoring him, I rushed over, preparing to put my own ‘gentle parenting’ approach into action, even with someone else’s child. 

But before I reached the boy, a woman walked up, glanced momentarily at me, then shouted at him before turning her back and walking away. 

It took me a moment to realise that the woman was his mum and that leaving him to cry in the rain alone seemed to be her way of teaching him a lesson. 

I can’t know for sure the exact circumstances that occurred – but I know that nothing could ever make me leave my own child crying alone in the rain, especially at such a young age. 

The incident, and the woman’s shouty reaction, put me in mind of a child-rearing style called authoritarian parenting.

That’s where parents rely on punishments and threats to manage behaviour without explaining the reasons behind them. The focus is on compliance instead of guidance. 

It is in my opinion the worst, most harmful form of raising your children. 

I’m a gentle parent – I see my son, first and foremost, as a person deserving of love and respect. I combine warm emotional responsiveness with firm, consistent boundaries.

When I was pregnant, I’d read several books about the importance of responding to a child’s emotional needs, which is why I decided it was the way I would raise my child.

If my toddler, for example, has a meltdown over having to put on clothes after a bath, I understand, because at his age, small things are huge.

I need to be his safe space.

That way, when he grows up, he will feel like he’s able to come to me with the ‘big things’ – like bullying at school or a heartbreak. As a parent, I need to be this person for my child.

Obviously I have some age-appropriate rules – no standing on the dining table, no biting or pinching. 

The techniques I have used don’t involve any yelling. For example, I didn’t tell my son off whenever he bit me. Instead, I told him that ‘biting hurts’, stopped the fun and sat apart from him for a few seconds. He whined and protested but after a few days, the biting had stopped. 

He understood his actions benefited neither him nor me, and now our relationship is stronger. 

Yet people I know are still pushing punishment as a form of parenting.

A friend without a child once told me ‘children should be raised with fear’ because that’s how they were raised. But I’ve seen this friend lose their temper, on multiple occasions.

A family friend who doesn’t have a close relationship with their own children has rolled their eyes when I’ve taken my crying baby from their arms. They disapproved of me ‘making a fuss’ every time he cried – claiming that when their children were left to cry it out, they turned out fine. 

It’s easy to feel pressured that your child should behave a certain way, especially in a society that is intolerant to children but babies need time and support to process big feelings just like anyone else.

Leaving a baby to ‘cry it out’ – which is a technique in authoritarian parenting, where you leave a baby alone to cry until they stop on their own – is not good for their development, physically or emotionally. 

So when I saw this child outside the O2, on the ground, crying and miserable, white hot fury unfurled in my stomach.

I walked up to him and knelt down beside the toddler and gently asked if he was okay. 

The sight of a stranger caused him to immediately stand up and walk in the direction of his parents, all while continuing to sob uncontrollably.

So, I decided to walk, albeit distanced, alongside the toddler until we reached his parents, who had eventually stopped up ahead.

I was enraged that they expected their toddler to find his own way to them. Even the sight of a stranger walking beside their child didn’t phase these parents. 

Biting back the expletives I wanted to hurl at them, I asked them if he was their son. 

The mother simply nodded, while the toddler stood next to me, still crying. 

No one moved or made an effort to console him. 

Their indifference registered as cruelty to me. 

‘How could you leave him like that?’ I managed. The dad glared at me, furious that I asked, eventually replying with ‘he’s my child’.

Knowing that this conversation would lead nowhere I turned around to walk away.

I tried to remove the image of their crying child from my mind, but as I sat at the bar with a beer and waited for my gig to start, all I could think about was how the boy was feeling.

No mum or dad can meet their child’s needs 100% of the time but it makes me sad to see parents who look like they aren’t even trying. 

Real parenting requires sacrifice, presence and a lot of work. 

But it is worth it if it means raising a child who feels loved.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Ross.Mccafferty@metro.co.uk. 

Share your views in the comments below.