An angry alligator helped me talk to my son about mental health

There are some conversations you expect to have when you become a parent. Why we brush our teeth, why vegetables are good for us and why throwing mashed potato across the table isn’t acceptable behaviour. But explaining mental health to a child? That’s a different story. How do you describe anxiety to a seven-year-old? Or explain why somebody might feel sad even when nothing bad has happened?

I had Cyrus at 40, so I’d already had four decades to discover that adults aren’t great at understanding their own feelings, never mind explaining them to somebody else. I’ve had moments when I’ve tried to explain something to him and ended up confusing myself. He’s usually thinking about something else by then.

So when I was sent the Healthy Minds collection from BookLife Publishing, I was interested to see whether a few children’s books could do a better job than my increasingly long-winded explanations. The books cover everything from happiness and anger to anxiety, depression and ADHD, using animal characters to help children understand what’s going on in their heads.

I wasn’t expecting a collection of picture books to answer every question about children’s mental health. I just wanted something that might make those conversations a bit easier.

I wanted something that would help us talk, without turning bedtime into another lesson.

I don’t remember having many conversations about mental health as a child. You were happy, sad, frightened or angry, and that was usually the end of it. If you were upset, somebody might tell you to cheer up. If you were angry, you were expected to calm down. Nobody spent much time asking what was behind it all.

That’s why I sometimes find myself wondering whether I’m saying the right thing to Cyrus. I don’t want him growing up thinking he has to be happy all the time, or that getting upset means he’s being difficult. But I don’t want to make every little disappointment into a serious discussion either. Sometimes a child is just cross because something hasn’t gone their way, and that’s normal.

I think there’s a balance to be found. Children need to know they can talk about their feelings, but they also need space to be children. Not every bad day needs analysing, and not every tantrum needs a lengthy conversation about emotional regulation. Sometimes everyone just needs a bit of peace and quiet.

The Healthy Minds collection includes books by John Wood and Holly Duhig, developed with children’s mental health charity Place2Be and published by BookLife. The stories use animal characters to explore different feelings and experiences, with illustrations that are colourful enough to catch a child’s attention without looking like something from a school worksheet.

There’s Anita the Alligator Feels Angry, Freddie the Fox Feels Frightened, Harry the Hamster Feels Happy and Sam the Sloth Feels Sad. Other titles introduce anxiety, depression and ADHD. Some are aimed at younger children, while others offer more detail for older readers.

What I liked was that the books didn’t try too hard to be clever. The characters have problems children can recognise, and the stories give them something to think about. An alligator losing her temper is much easier to talk about than launching into an explanation of why people get angry. Besides, I suspect most children would rather read about a troublesome alligator than listen to mum discussing the workings of the human brain.

The questions at the end of the stories were really useful. They gave Cyrus something to think about and gave me a chance to see what he’d taken from the book. Sometimes he’d answer straight away. At other times he’d think for a while before coming out with something I hadn’t thought about. Those moments are a reminder that children don’t always need us to supply the answers.

Of all the books we read, Anita the Alligator Feels Angry was one of our favourites. It deals with sibling rivalry, frustration and mashed potato, which is quite a combination. Anita gets angry, and the story looks at what happens when those feelings get the better of her.

I enjoyed it because Anita isn’t presented as a terrible character just because she loses her temper. She’s angry, and there’s a reason for it. That doesn’t mean everything she does is acceptable, but it does mean there’s something worth talking about.

Children get angry for all sorts of reasons. They’re tired, disappointed, jealous or frustrated because somebody isn’t listening. Sometimes they don’t know why they’re angry themselves. I’ve seen how quickly an ordinary day can go downhill when something small doesn’t go to plan.

Reading about Anita meant we could talk about anger without Cyrus feeling as though I was delivering another lesson about his behaviour. We could discuss what had upset her, whether she handled it well and what she might have done differently.

And there was enough humour to keep us both interested. I’m all for educational books, but they still need to be enjoyable. Nobody wants to spend bedtime reading something that feels like compulsory homework.

The collection also tackles subjects that are harder to explain. Robin and the Rabbit introduces anxiety, Sydney and the Sloth explores depression, and Marley and the Monkey looks at ADHD.

These aren’t quite the same as talking about feeling angry because somebody has taken your favourite toy. Anxiety and depression can be mental health conditions, while ADHD is a neurodevelopmental condition. There’s a difference between occasionally feeling worried or distracted and living with something that affects everyday life.

I think it’s important that children begin to understand those differences, especially as they’ll meet people who experience the world in ways they might not recognise. A child who struggles to concentrate isn’t necessarily being naughty. Somebody who feels anxious isn’t just making a fuss. And telling a person with depression to cheer up is about as helpful as telling someone with a broken leg to walk it off.

The books introduce these subjects without expecting children to understand everything in one sitting. They’re a starting point, which is probably all they need to be. I wouldn’t expect Cyrus to finish a story about ADHD and suddenly understand the condition in detail. But if it makes him a little more curious and less likely to judge somebody who’s different from him, that’s worthwhile.

One of the things I appreciated most was having questions to ask at the end of each story. Not because I wanted to test Cyrus, but because I was interested in what he’d understood.

I could ask why Anita was angry or what might help Freddie feel less frightened. Sometimes we’d talk about what a character could have done differently. Other times we’d end up discussing something completely unrelated. That’s children for you. You begin with a conversation about sadness and somehow find yourself discussing what’s for breakfast.

I found that talking about a character was often easier than asking Cyrus directly how he felt. There’s less pressure when you’re discussing somebody else’s problems, particularly when that somebody happens to be a fox or an alligator.

It also made me think about how often adults jump in with answers before children have finished speaking. I’m guilty of that. I want to help, so I explain, reassure and occasionally go on far longer than necessary. Yet some of the more interesting conversations happen when I stop talking and give Cyrus a chance to work things out himself.

I do wonder whether parents put too much pressure on themselves to get these conversations right. There’s so much advice available about raising emotionally healthy children that it can feel as though every word matters. Say the wrong thing, react badly to a tantrum or lose your patience after a long day, and suddenly you’re questioning your entire approach to parenting.

I don’t think children need perfect explanations. They need to know they can ask questions and that somebody will listen. Sometimes that means talking about what’s upsetting them. But it also sometimes means admitting that you don’t know the answer, and leaving the conversation alone until they’re ready.

I’ve found that reading together makes things easier because there’s no need to announce that we’re having an important discussion. We can just enjoy the story and see where it takes us. If Cyrus wants to talk about the character, we talk. If he doesn’t, we move on.

The books have also reminded me that feelings don’t always need fixing. Being sad, angry or frightened isn’t automatically a problem. Those emotions are part of life, and children need to learn how to deal with them rather than believe they should never experience them.

I liked the collection, especially the books aimed at younger children. The illustrations are engaging, the characters are memorable and the stories are short enough to keep a child’s attention. More importantly, they gave Cyrus and me something to discuss without making either of us feel as though we were sitting through a lesson.

I also appreciate that the collection includes subjects such as anxiety, depression and ADHD. Children hear these words, whether at school, at home or elsewhere, and it’s useful to have age-appropriate ways of explaining what they mean. The books won’t replace professional advice, but they can help parents begin conversations they might otherwise struggle with.

As for Anita the Alligator, she remains a favourite. Any book that manages to tackle anger while involving mashed potato deserves some recognition.

I don’t think there’s a particular birthday when parents should suddenly sit their children down and explain mental health. The conversations can begin much earlier, with simple questions about why somebody feels sad, frightened or angry. As children grow, the explanations can grow with them.

Cyrus is getting older, and I know the things he worries about will change. There’ll be friendships, school pressures and all the other complications that come with growing up. I won’t always know what to say, and I certainly won’t be able to solve everything for him.

But I’d like him to feel comfortable telling me when something’s bothering him. I want him to understand that being upset doesn’t make him weak, that getting angry doesn’t make him a bad person and that asking for help is nothing to be embarrassed about.

If reading about a few animals helps us get there, I’m happy to make room for them on the bookshelf. Even Anita, with her temper and mashed potato.

Do books help, or do you find the best conversations happen when you least expect them?

Health note: These books can help children understand feelings and mental health, but they aren’t a substitute for professional advice. If you’re worried about your child’s emotional wellbeing, speak to your GP or another appropriate healthcare professional.

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