— When My Child Cries in German, and I Can’t Comfort Him in Chinese

The other night, my son cried.

Not the loud, dramatic kind of crying—but the quiet, heart-squeezing kind. The kind where his voice catches in his throat, and his shoulders shake a little.

Honestly, I can’t even remember what started it. I think I told him he had to brush his teeth before playing with his toys, and he refused. I was tired, my voice came out sharper than I meant.

He stood in the hallway, eyes welling up, and whispered in German:

“Du verstehst mich nie! (English: You never understand me).”

Then he turned away from me and kept mumbling things in German that I couldn’t quite catch.

I reached out, instinctively speaking Chinese:

“別這樣，我不是在生氣，只是想讓你早點休息啊……”

(“Don’t be like that, I’m not mad—I just want you to rest…”)

But he didn’t respond. He kept his head down and said quietly:

“Lass mich in Ruhe. Ich will nicht reden.”

(“Leave me alone. I don’t want to talk.”)

And in that moment, I felt like I was suddenly… on the outside.

Language wasn’t just a tool anymore—it had become a wall.

I remember when he was younger, maybe two or three, his first instinct was to cry in Chinese.

“不要, 媽媽” (“Don’t , Mama”)

Back then, Chinese was his emotional language.

But now?

He cries in German. He defends himself in German. He protects his feelings in German.

And me? I suddenly felt like I was struggling to keep up. Not because I couldn’t understand the words. But because I couldn’t reach him, right there in his feelings, in the way I used to.

Our languages are slowly parting ways. And it’s no one’s fault.

It doesn’t mean Chinese is “losing.” It just means—his world is expanding. His friends, his teachers, his books, the cartoons he watches, even his dreams— they’re all happening in German now.

At home, Chinese still carries warmth. But in his day-to-day life, it’s quietly moving to the edges.

Emotional vocabulary: more than words—it’s a lifeline.

Later that night, when everything had calmed down, I found myself wondering:

Was I too quick to explain, too slow to really listen? Maybe if I’d simply said: “You’re feeling sad, aren’t you?” or “You’re angry because you feel like I don’t get it, right?”—maybe that would’ve reached him better.

So the next day, I made a little card with simple sentences in both Chinese and German, with matching emojis:

I’m sad. 我很難過。

Ich bin traurig.

I’m angry. 我好生氣。

Ich bin wütend.

I want to be alone. 我想一個人待一會兒。

Ich will alleine sein.

I need a hug. 我需要一個擁抱。

Ich brauche eine Umarmung.

I didn’t make it a lesson.

I just stuck it on the fridge.

Sometimes he glances at it. Sometimes he points and asks, “What’s that one mean?”

Little by little, we’re building a bridge—sometimes in Chinese, sometimes in German.

It doesn’t matter what the language is. What matters is that we keep reaching for each other.

In the end, this is what matters:

He still cries in German. But sometimes—after the tears—he’ll look up at me, and quietly say in Chinese:

「媽媽，你剛才也有點兇。」

(“Mama, you were kind of mean just now.”)

And I laugh.

Because in that moment, I know:

Our languages might be different, but our love is still the same.

I made a simple vocabulary sheet you can stick on your fridge or wall. It’s a gentle way to help your bilingual or multilingual child express big feelings in either language.

Which language does your child cry in?

Have you ever felt like you were on the outside of your child’s emotions—because of language?

Leave a comment or send me a message—I’d love to hear your story.

語言不一樣，愛一樣深

——當孩子用德語哭，而我卻無法用中文安慰他

那天晚上，他哭了。

不是大哭，而是那種忍了很久、突然崩潰的小聲抽泣。原因我已經忘了，好像是因為我讓他先刷牙再玩玩具，他不肯，我也有點疲憊，語氣重了一些。

他站在走廊上，滿臉委屈地用德語說：「Du verstehst mich nie!（你從來不懂我！）」

然後背過身去，一邊哭，一邊嘟囔些我聽不清的德語句子。

我伸出手想抱他，嘴裡脫口而出的是中文：「你別這樣，我不是在生氣，只是想讓你早點休息啊……」

但他沒反應。

他只是低著頭，一直哭著，一邊說著：「Lass mich in Ruhe. Ich will nicht reden.（別煩我，我不想說話。）」

那一刻，我突然覺得有點……被排除在外了。

語言不再只是溝通工具，它變成了情緒的屏障。

我記得他小時候，情緒不穩時最常說的是「我不要」，或者「不要媽媽走」。那時候的中文，是他情緒的出口。

但現在，他哭的語言，變成了德語。

他抗拒時說的、保護自己時說的，都是德語。

而我，突然有點跟不上他了。

不是我聽不懂他的話，而是——我無法在他的情緒語言裡，即時地、準確地伸出一隻手。

我們的語言，正在分岔。

這不是誰的錯，也不是某種「中文輸了」的訊號。

只是，他的世界正快速向外擴張。他的朋友、老師、故事書、學校、電視節目，甚至他的夢，越來越多是用德語發生的。

中文，在我們的家裡還有溫度，但在他的日常裡，開始有點邊緣了。

情緒詞彙，是連結也是保護傘。

我後來靜下來想：我是不是太急著要解釋自己，卻沒真的聽懂他的情緒？

或許不論我用什麼語言，如果我說的是：「你現在很難過對不對？」「你生氣，是因為覺得我不理解你嗎？」

他會比較能聽得進去？

那天晚上過後，我做了一張簡單的小卡片，上面畫了一些表情，旁邊寫著中德對照的詞句：

Ich bin traurig. 我很難過。

Ich bin wütend. 我好生氣。

Ich will alleine sein. 我想一個人待一會兒。

Ich brauche eine Umarmung. 我需要一個擁抱。

我沒強迫他學。我只是貼在了冰箱上。有時候他經過會看一眼，有時候他會問我：「這個是什麼意思？」

我們慢慢地，把這些詞放進我們的日常裡，像在搭一座橋。

有時候說中文，有時候說德文，重要的不是語言，而是那個連結的動作。

… …

他還是會用德語哭，但有時候，也會在情緒過去之後，小聲說一句中文：「媽媽，你剛才也有點兇。」

我聽見那句話時，反而笑了出來。因為我知道——

我們之間的語言或許不同，但我們彼此感受到的愛，是一樣深的。

我整理了一份簡單的「親子情緒詞彙卡」，可以貼在牆上、冰箱或孩子的書桌旁，陪你一起打開情緒對話的可能性。

你家孩子現在用哪種語言表達情緒？

你曾經有過「語言跟不上愛」的瞬間嗎？

歡迎留言，我想聽聽你的故事。