Do you remember when your child was a baby?  You spent the first years of his life eagerly looking forward to his learning to walk and talk.  
How long did it take until you were telling him to sit down and be quiet?
For most children walking and talking, sooner or later, come naturally.  For most children, and adults, sitting quietly is harder to master.
Sitting quietly, silently waiting while nothing is being said requires mastery and conscious self-discipline.  It is difficult.  It is also invaluable.
Rav Wolbe, z’l, in Alei Shur, (Volume 2, page 35) explains it this way:
The expertise of a person in this world is to make himself as though he were mute.  The expertise is specifically not to be a chatterer.  This is what we must learn: from the time that a child learns how to speak, he chatters about whatever comes into his mind.  To be silent requires study, for silence is an important skill and only through his silence do we recognize a person as wise.
Rav Wolbe quotes the Rambam: the fence that protects wisdom is silence, therefore do not hasten to answer and do not speak too much.  (Daos, 2:5)  Rav Wolbe adds: It is fascinating how “ha’dibur ha’emesi” flows only from silence.
What is ha’dibur ha’emesi?  What does that expression mean?  Rav Wolbe didn’t write, divrei emes, “words of truth flow only from silence.”  I don’t think Rav Wolbe is referring to being truthful.  I think ha’dibur ha’emesi means “words that bring truth, words that bring accuracy, clarity, and understanding.”   Silence brings clarity and accuracy.  The converse may be discerned from the Mishna: kol ha’marbeh d’varim maivi chait, “those who speak too much cause chait.” (Avos 1:17)
The Medrash Koheles Rabbah (7:20) tells us that the word chait does not always mean “sin.”  Sometimes it means inaccuracy, failure.  With that in mind, we see that the Mishna in Avos is teaching us that saying too much can cause folly and failure.   The Rambam and Rav Wolbe teach us the converse: silence is the source of wisdom and success.
Submarines run silent and run deep.  
Parents need to slow down, stop running, in order to be silent.  When you do, your conversations and relationships with your children will go deeper.  Silence allows you to think, and your silence invites your child to slow down and think, to go deeper into the depths of her thoughts and feelings and desires.
“A word is worth a selah, silence is worth two.” Megilah 18a
The Aruch on that gemara records this teaching as follows: Rabbi Yoshia said, “The best medicine is silence.”  Rabbi Oshia said, “A word is worth a selah, silence is golden.” (literally: like a precious stone)
Why is silence so precious?  “The reason is because it is painful to remain silent, and l’fum tzaara, agra, the more the discomfort, the greater the reward.”  [Rav Avraham Abba Hertzel of Pressburg, Sifsei Chachamim on Megilah 18a]
In Ben Yehoyada, Rav Yosef Chaim (the Ben Ish Chai) writes that the word dibur alludes to the daled boros, the four chambers of our deepest thoughts: how we think about ourselves in the past; how we imagine ourselves in the future; how we think of others in our past; and how we imagine others in our future.  Our words express how we think about what we have done, and how we think about what others have done for us and to us.  Our words also convey what we wish for ourselves, and what we hope for, or fear, from others.  
Our silence allows us think more deeply, to more completely gather and organize our thoughts before we form our words.  Some call this silent time hisbodadus, contemplation, or meditation.  It happens when we give ourselves some time and find a place for silence.  It only happens for your child when you create that time and place for him.
Seventeen year old Michoel seemed quieter than usual, almost withdrawn.  His parents were concerned about him.  His mother asked him if something had happened, he said no.  His father asked him what was bothering him, he said nothing is, he’s fine.  But they were sure he wasn’t fine.  Michoel wasn’t disrespectful, he wasn’t angry, he wasn’t uncooperative.  But he wasn’t himself.  His father asked him if he’d be willing to meet with me.  Michoel said okay.  He came by himself.   Michoel sat down and looked towards me, then he looked at the floor.  I said hello; he said hello back to me.  I asked him what he wanted to talk with me about.  We sat quietly, silently, for a long time.  As we sat together in silence, I thought about a place in Washington State that I’d read about.  Here’s what I had read:
One Square Inch of Silence is the quietest place in the United States.  Located in the Hoh Rain Forest at Olympic National Park, it is 3.2 miles from the Visitor’s Center above Mt. Tom Creek Meadows on the Hoh River Trail. Hiking time from the parking lot at the Visitor’s Center to the site is approximately two hours along a gentle path lined by ancient trees and ferns.
I was thinking that Michoel had traveled to me, and I had the opportunity to give him as many square inches of silence as he needed to figure out what he wanted to say and gather the courage to say it.  It took him, literally, more than twenty minutes.  It was hard for me to be silent that long.  It turned out to be well worth it for Michoel, and for me.
Say as much as you need to say to your child, and say it as clearly and concisely as you can.  Then work even harder; be silent, let her think and gather the courage to tell you ha’dibur ha’emesi, what is deeply important and perhaps painful for her.  Give her the opportunity to go deeper into her thoughts, and choose how to share them with you.  You will make it more likely that she will.
Rabbi Yitzchak Shmuel Ackerman is a Licensed Mental Health Counselor with specialties in marriage, relationships, and parenting.  He works with parents and educators, and conducts parenting seminars for shuls and organizations.  He can be reached at 718-344-6575.