Ask Kate: What Can I Do When My 5-Year-Old’s Outbursts Are So Long and Loud?

This week’s Ask Kate comes from a grandmother raising her 5-year-old granddaughter. Like many caregivers, she’s doing her best, but feels overwhelmed by explosive outbursts and is desperate for guidance.

“She screams. She kicks. She refuses food. She has meltdowns in public and outbursts at home. We’ve tried timers, consequences, behavior charts, and clear routines… and still, it feels like nothing is working.”

Sound familiar?

You are not alone.

Whether you’re a parent, grandparent, teacher, or caregiver, when a child’s behavior feels “bigger than expected,” it can leave you exhausted, confused, and questioning everything.

Let’s walk through what’s happening—and what can help.

First: This Isn’t About You Doing Something Wrong

Behavior is communication.
When a young child screams, hits, melts down, or refuses, they’re not being “bad” or manipulative. They’re telling you:

“I don’t have the skills to handle what I’m feeling.”

And often, those overwhelming feelings are tied to:

• Underlying anxiety or trauma

• Sensory processing sensitivities

• Difficulty with transitions

• Feeling out of control

Emotional Regulation Begins With Co-Regulation

You may have heard that “kids need to learn to self-regulate.” But here’s the truth:

Children can’t self-regulate until they’ve been consistently co-regulated.

Co-regulation means the child borrows your calm to feel safe. When a child is in full meltdown mode, their nervous system shifts into a state of survival—fight, flight, or freeze. Their brain can’t access reasoning, memory, or language.

What they need most in that moment is a grounded, nonjudgmental adult who can stay calm for them, even if they can’t yet be calm themselves.

What co-regulation looks like:

• “I’m right here. You’re safe.”

• Sitting nearby with open body language

• Matching their breathing with slow, steady breaths

• Offering a hand, fidget, or blanket (if welcomed)

What it isn’t:

• Explaining what they did wrong

• Telling them to “calm down”

• Punishing the behavior mid-meltdown

When Words Don’t Work

During dysregulation, the brain is typically unable to process language.

Continued talking—even if it’s calm and kind—can feel like more sensory input to an already overwhelmed system. It may increase distress rather than reduce it.

Instead, focus on presence over instruction.
Use fewer words, adopt a slower pace, and employ supportive body language.

After the Storm: The Power of Waiting

The return to regulation takes time.
Sometimes, a lot of time.

This is where many adults start to question themselves or the child—but this pause is a crucial part of the healing process.

💡 The child’s nervous system needs many, many matching experiences of safety before it can build new pathways for handling emotional overwhelm.

During this waiting period:

• Prioritize safety: make sure no one is getting hurt

• Offer a cushioned space for the child to release safely if needed

• Let them know you’re staying, even if they’re not ready to connect

And afterward? Don’t expect an explanation.

Most children:

• Can tell you what happened (“I hit the table”)

• But cannot tell you why it happened

• And may not remember it at all

That’s not defiance—it’s protection.
It’s the brain doing its job to survive.

Tools That Can Help With Explosive Outbursts

These tools support co-regulation, predictability, and emotional literacy over time:

1. Visual Schedules

Kids feel safer when they know what’s coming next.

Some children benefit from seeing the whole day, while others do better with just the next 2–3 steps. Start with a full-day layout, and if it becomes overwhelming, scale back to something like:

🛏 Wake up → 🍽 Eat breakfast → 🎒 Pack backpack

Use real photos or icons, and walk through it together.

🔗 Get free visual schedule printables here »

2. First/Then Language

“First, we clean up. Then, we play outside.”

This simple structure supports transitions and reduces power struggles by providing predictability and clarity.

3. Emotion + Need Cards

Kids often don’t have the words for what they feel—or what they need. Cue cards help bridge that gap:

“I feel mad. I need a break.”

(Printable version coming soon in the Little Dragon Calm-Down Toolkit!)

4. Calm-Down Spaces

Instead of traditional time-outs, create a cozy, safe space for the child to retreat to when overwhelmed.

This might include:

• Pillows, weighted blankets, or soft lights

• Fidgets or chewables

• A name they help choose, such as “Cozy Corner” or “Dragon Den”

Let the child know:

“This is a place to feel safe—not a punishment.”

In Summary: This Work Is Slow. And Sacred.

If you’re raising a child with long, loud, overwhelming outbursts… you’re not alone.

You’re doing incredibly hard, heart-heavy work.
You’re showing up again and again—even when it feels like nothing is changing.

But here’s what’s true:

Every moment of calm you offer…
Every meltdown you stay with…
Every time you choose connection over correction…
…reshapes a child’s brain to expect safety instead of threat.

And that is the deepest work of all.

📬 Want to Ask Kate?

Do you have a question about parenting, regulation, healing, or neurodiversity?
Submit it here, and it may be featured in a future post.

✨ And if you’d like free visual tools to support your child’s regulation, download them anytime at
👉 www.katepowerscreates.com/free-resource-library

When School Ends: Summer with a Neurodivergent Child

By Kate Powers

The end of the school year always comes with a breath of relief—a loosening of the tight grip that early mornings, drop-offs, therapies, and school expectations hold on our daily lives.

As a teacher, I’m on the same break schedule as my son, and I’ve always felt grateful for that. While I often had graduate classes or professional development to attend, I was available most of the time. We could plan visits with family, take slow mornings, and spend time with the people who truly got us—friends and family who understood our needs and didn’t take it personally when plans shifted or had to be scrapped altogether.

But summer wasn’t always easy.

Camp was never part of our story, whether it was a day camp or a sleepover. We didn’t have access to autism-supportive camps until my son was diagnosed at age 13—by then, he was not going to camp. Not only had the moment passed, but his deep discomfort with insects, mosquito bites, and poison ivy made the idea of summer camp sound like punishment, not fun.

There is nothing about camp that appeals to him.

Instead, we built our version of summer—one without a rigid structure but also without the kind of summer adventures many families take for granted. Our days were filled with sensory considerations, flexible routines, and safe spaces.

And still, summer gave me a chance to let my guard down a bit. I didn’t have to over-plan every morning or navigate the exhausting rhythm of school meetings and parent emails. I didn’t have to constantly explain, prep, and advocate—at least not as much.

In some ways, it felt like we were finally able to breathe.

Making Space for What Works

The truth is, summer required just as much thought and planning—but of a different kind. Instead of structuring our days around school, we built them around regulation, comfort, and connection.

We found quiet beaches. Shaded trails with fewer bugs. Libraries that offered sensory-friendly hours. Friends who didn’t blink when we left early or said “no thanks” to loud cookouts. I packed familiar snacks, backup clothes, calming tools, and always a way out.

And every year, I got better at knowing what we needed—and letting go of what we didn’t.

I used to feel guilty when I saw other families posting pictures of summer camps, amusement parks, or group vacations. I worried I wasn’t giving my son the “right” kind of childhood.

But eventually, I realized:

He was having a childhood—one where his needs were centered and his limits respected.

One where joy came not from pushing him through discomfort, but from building experiences around what he could truly enjoy.

That’s the kind of summer I’ve learned to embrace.

Why Camp—and So Many Summer Settings—Don’t Work for Him

My son has intense sensory sensitivities, and places like summer camps often push his nervous system past the point of tolerance.

He hears the insects buzzing in his ears and the crunching of twigs underfoot. Everything feels dirty or bug-covered. Sunscreen and bug spray are sticky, smelly, and uncomfortable on his skin. The heat alone—especially with no break or breeze—can feel unbearable.

Then come the unfamiliar smells, especially if there are farm animals or horses nearby. Boats are out of the question—not just because of motion sickness, but because they make him feel unsafe. There’s too much unpredictability.

Food is another challenge.
At home, he eats a predictable repertoire—things he knows, trusts, and feels comfortable with. For years, his go-to breakfast has been a fruit protein smoothie and a specific breakfast sandwich. That’s not something most camps are prepared—or willing—to accommodate.

And for kids with sensory processing differences, eating isn’t just about taste. It’s texture, smell, visual presentation, and routine. One unfamiliar item can throw off the entire day.

To others, these may sound like minor complaints or even excuses. But when someone processes sensory input without natural filters, every sound, texture, smell, and movement can feel like an attack. The brain quickly shifts into protection mode.

Sometimes, that protection looks like detachment or shutting down. At other times, it appears as explosive episodes, meltdowns, or fleeing the group altogether. But none of that is misbehavior. It’s a body and brain that can no longer take in more information. The system is overloaded.

In those moments, your child isn’t being difficult. Their nervous system is sounding the alarm—and our job is to listen.

The Gift of Slowness

In the stillness of summer, I often find myself reflecting on the pace we keep during the school year—and how misaligned it is with what so many neurodivergent kids (and parents) need.

The rush to get out the door. The constant demands for compliance. The pressure to fit into structures never designed for us.

Summer reminds me that slowing down isn’t laziness—it’s medicine.

It’s in the slow mornings, the quiet art projects, the unstructured time outside that my son resets.

It’s when I’m not hustling from one obligation to the next that I remember who I am, too. I’m not just a caregiver or an advocate—I’m a person with creative dreams, with a body that needs rest, with a heart that needs nurturing.

And that truth? It’s not just for summer.

To the Parents Who Are Tired

If you’re reading this and feeling the familiar tug of both relief and dread about summer—relief that school is over and dread about how you’ll manage the weeks ahead—I see you.

You are not doing it wrong. You’re doing what you can in a world that rarely makes space for how your child moves through it.

You don’t need to replicate anyone else’s summer. You don’t need to push past your child’s limits—or your own—to prove anything to anyone.

You get to design a summer that fits. One that prioritizes peace over performance. One that lets joy and rest coexist.

And if you’re still figuring that out, that’s okay, too.

Our Story Isn’t Typical—But It’s Ours

I’ve stopped measuring our life by how closely it mirrors someone else’s. Our summers don’t include overnight camps or theme parks, and that’s okay.

What they do include is presence. Attunement. Adaptation. And a whole lot of love.

Sometimes, that looks like a quiet afternoon sketching or stargazing. Sometimes, it’s a grocery store run that didn’t end in a meltdown. Sometimes, it’s simply knowing when to say no, when to stay home, and when to let the day unfold without a plan.

Success looks different in our house—and different doesn’t mean lesser.
It often means braver, more intentional, and more deeply rooted in truth.

Looking for more support?
I’ve created a free Resource Library filled with printable tools, calming visuals, and gentle parenting supports—all designed with neurodivergent families in mind.

Access the Free Library Here »