“You’re OK,” utter many parents instinctively when a young child falls or bumps his or her knee. Typically, the child is unsure at first whether an actual injury has occurred. But the parent’s assumption that all is fine, combined with a lack of evidence (like blood), magically keeps the child from distress. Instead of crying or fretting, the child often follows the parent’s cue and moves on.

Now picture a child seemingly misbehaving. The typical parent’s first utterance is not “You’re OK!” Rather, it tends to be a way of conveying “you are not OK” morally — e.g., “Bad boy (or girl)! There goes my (insert unhealthy label) child!”

This is where it’s helpful to consider one of the best parenting mantras I’ve ever read.

When a child appears to misbehave, “attribute to the child the best possible motive consistent with the facts.” This quote comes from Alfie Kohn’s 2006 book Unconditional Parenting: Moving from Rewards and Punishments to Love and Reason. (Kohn notes he learned the mantra from feminist and philosopher Nel Noddings.

Create auspicious cycles, not vicious ones

In those first moments of a child’s apparent misbehavior, Kohn say parents should refrain from catastrophizing, labeling or overreacting. For at first, “we usually don’t know for sure why a child acted the way he did.” Reasons beyond just “badness” may be at play. These could include immaturity, a lack of skill or an innocent desire to explore.

Another reason to attribute the best possible motive: parents’ beliefs about the child can create a self-fulfilling prophecy. As Kohn writes, “Children construct a theory about their own motives based in part on our assumptions about their motives, and then they act accordingly: ‘You think I’m just plain bad and need to be controlled all the time? Fine. Watch me act as though you’re right.’”

Rather than the vicious cycle of bad behavior that labels can foster, Kohn says assuming your child’s best motives from a young age can develop an “auspicious cycle” of moral development. He adds: “We can help kids to develop good values by treating them as though they were already motivated by those values. They thereby come to believe what’s best about themselves and live up to our trust in them.”

Because I’m a former English professor, Kohn’s parenting mantra reminded me of a similar formulation from the world of poetry.

‘First thought, best self’ parenting

The Beat Generation’s Allen Ginsberg believed in the poetic phrase “first thought, best thought.” For Ginsberg, the first thought humans have about a subject is usually the most truthful, authentic perception. His poetic philosophy championed spontaneous, uncensored lines as a way to describe reality most purely.

Granted, parenting is much different than writing poetry. And many parents’ first thoughts probably should be censored for the sake of our children. But a related, more fruitful revision of Ginsberg’s formulation for parents might be “first thought, best self.”

“First thought, best self” parenting would practice what Kohn preaches about always assuming a child’s best motives. It would also foster the growth of a child’s “best self” by fueling the “auspicious” cycle of self-esteem. In the process, we would be parenting with our “best selves” as well.

Of course, “first thought, best self” parenting is easier said than done. It is very challenging to slow our instincts, revise our assumptions and shift a mindset. But what if the facts do not end up being consistent with a child’s healthy motives? Then the misbehavior must be addressed.

But that initial moment of a parent’s reaction to children’s behavior is very important to their future morality and self-esteem. Just as we reassured children they were physically “OK” when they were little, as they grow we should also reassure them they are morally “OK.”

A final benefit of assuming a child’s best motives when they seemingly misbehave: as they grow older, they learn to attribute the same good motives to the people in their lives. For example, when their friends or even parents do things they don’t like, agree with or understand, they learn to consider possible reasons for such behavior rather than assume the worst before more facts are known. Our modeling can nudge children toward fairmindedness that fuel even more auspicious cycles. Ideally, we can help children learn to make their first thought with their best self.

Photo: © Miljan Živković /Adobe Stock.

I fully expected attitude from my son when I opened his bedroom door. After all, the night before was rough. It was one of those nights you hear about from friends who are parents, and read about in the thousands of articles available online.

The classic 3-year-old toddler tantrum meltdown.

Screaming.

Yelling.

Throwing.

No. No! NO!!

Nothing I tried worked. It wasn’t the first time it happened. It certainly won’t be the last. On this night, however, it all came to a head for me. My patience was running thin. I lost my cool, yelled at Emory, and sent him straight to bed.

No bedtime story. No song. No brushing teeth. No nothing. I’d had enough.

In the immediate aftermath, I can’t describe how small I felt. For as much as my son was going through it with his meltdown, when he heard the bass in my voice, his eyes lit up. And when I was walking out of his room and he realized there would be no story, there was dejection and sadness all over his face. Not only did he know he’d messed up, but he also was well aware Daddy was upset and had lost it.

I went back in the room a few minutes later to give him a hug and apologize, but the damage for this particular night had been done.

How could I let this little person get to me like this? How could I not practice what I preach to him?

Grace in a child’s unconditional love

Sure, recently things had been rough with work and life and trying to balance all of the above along with a 2 month old. However, even with that stress, I didn’t have a pass to lose my cool in that moment with my son. It happens, though.

Being a dad is rough. There will be times where it gets hard. There will be times when you want to yell like I did. It’s a normal feeling that all parents will experience with their children. This was yet another lesson I learned in this journey through fatherhood.

I also learned that one of the beautiful things about being a dad is how forgiving our kids can be. When I opened Emory’s bedroom door the next morning, it was as if nothing happened. He jumped out of bed with a smile and a big hug. Silly me for thinking that he’d still be dwelling on what happened the night before. It’s a characteristic we adults could learn from.

Kids give us a grace that we don’t often deserve. In a moment of frustration for me, my son gave me some grace that I know wasn’t warranted. As a dad, I’m learning just as much, if not more, from him as I hope he’s learning from me.

During this “threenager” stage where tantrums are common, I’m trying to teach him ways to manage his anger in a healthy way. At this age, I’m well aware that he doesn’t really understand it. I just hope some of the methods will stick with him as he gets older.

Meanwhile, I’m glad he already knows how to give his old man a break when I make a mistake.

Photo: © LIGHTFIELD STUDIOS / Adobe Stock.

“PLEASE GET YOUR SHOES ON! I’ve asked you five times, and if you don’t get them on RIGHT NOW, I’m leaving you home alone by yourself!”

It seems those words come out of my mouth once, maybe twice a week while we go through the morning routine. Throw in a “damn” here and there, and it might be more accurate. At some point in one’s parenting career, we all experience these feelings.

Before you start to call the authorities, no — I would never leave my son home alone. It’s one of those empty promises we offer our children so that they do what we are asking of them. If you don’t do this too, please tell me how you prevent the situations like above from happening.

It doesn’t stop at shoes either. It can be either listening to what I’m asking my son to do, or not do. At times, I wonder if we need to have my oldest son’s hearing checked but then I remember that he is the child who can hear a bag of chips being opened from down the block when he is playing with his friends.

As quickly as the frustration inside of me comes, it leaves. Then, a feeling of sorrow inside of me hits.

I start to wonder how I could yell at my son in the way that I did. Did he understand why? Does he know that if he had just done things right the first time, he wouldn’t have to be doing it again? Does he understand how much it pains me to sound like my parents?

I ask myself those questions because, more often than not, I am the one having difficulty remembering he is only 7 years old. He is just a kid. It is up to me to teach him that getting angry and yelling does not get you anywhere in life.

Like the time I was cleaning out our new car and I came across blue slime stuck to the floorboard. It had somehow escaped the plastic bag someone had brought it home in. Someone had stepped on the bag … and out it came. It would have been easy to be frustrated with my son even though it might not be his fault. Not completely. He had stepped on the bag, causing the contents to ooze out, but it was an accident. I had left the bag sitting there for a while and should have been the one to take it out of the car.

There was no reason for me to be upset with him. The slime, despite being stuck to the floorboard, wasn’t hurting anyone and eventually could be cleaned up. But I blew up any way.

It took a few minutes, but I gathered myself, sat down next to him and said, “William, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted that way. I know it wasn’t your fault and I was just frustrated that we just bought this car and now there is this blue slime on the floor. I’m sorry.”

Even though he told me that it was OK, I knew that I hurt him. But I also knew my ability to say “I’m sorry” was just what he needed to hear so that he pushes past everything. Part of it is my conscience. I know that I was in the wrong, even though it took me a bit to realize it.

I come by saying I am not a perfect parent honestly. Being able to say I’m sorry to my family for the numerous times I’ve screwed up is the one area of my life that I feel like I am getting right. When I tell William I am sorry for getting frustrated with him, he starts to understand that not only do I feel bad about what I have done or said but that even though I am not going to get it right every time, I am going to try to better. And, until I can make no mistakes, I am going to be sure to always say I’m sorry to my son.

A version of this first appeared on The Rookie Dad. Photo: © Tatyana Gladskih / Adobe Stock.

The timeout chair had absolute and unquestioned power in our home. Until they were 4, my kids were horrified at the thought of a timeout.

But even when the timeout chair didn’t preemptively stop a temper tantrum, it still worked magic. A two-minute sentence of silence in it instantly defrayed the tension. When you got up from timeout, the slate was perfectly clean – no ill will lingered. The timeout chair had many powers, but it had no memory.

I miss the timeout chair.

Hell, I simply miss the threat of it persuading my little ones to behave better.

Unfortunately, no such device strikes fear in the heart of a middle-schooler.

Nope, my 7th grader’s miscues aren’t as definitively corrected.

And, yes, they tend to fester.

A year ago, seeing an F on Yosef’s elementary school report card would have been laughable to me. In fact, I was caught completely flat-footed by my son’s recent academic struggles.

If I’m making excuses, I’d say that I had trust that he was performing well in school. After starting 6th grade with two consecutive semesters of straight A’s, I didn’t even bother checking his year-ending grades. Those would have clearly showed a downward slide – a ride that has not relented.

After seeing more F’s this fall, I realized my kid’s failing school. My parenting reaction followed, what I’d assume is, a normal trajectory:

My Kid’s Failing Stage 1: Finding fault

I needed to find the reason for Yosef’s academic slide – like, NOW!

Was the work too hard?

Why didn’t the teachers contact us before it got this bad?

Did the busy, activity-filled life we lead contribute?

I became quickly frustrated that I couldn’t pinpoint the problem – or the solution. The truth, likely, took in a little of these factors.

Stage 2: He loses EVERYTHING!

I quickly turned my attention from finding the cause to attempting to make my son’s life miserable. Yosef was the only “thing” I could think to blame. After all, he did this, no one else. Right?

Now that I’d diagnosed Yosef as the key contributor, I was dead set on levying a punishment that would be forever cemented in his mind when he thought about slacking off again.

First, I snatched his phone. No more communicating with anyone other than US!

Next, I pulled him from all activities. You like football, huh? It’s GONE! GONE, GONE, GONE!

Finally, I relegated him to manual labor. I hope you enjoy lawn mowing, son. And weed pulling, room cleaning, and shelf dusting … the house better be IMMACULATE!

Taking everything was just the tough love he needed. I was really parenting, I thought, for a fleeting moment or two.

My Kid’s Failing Stage 3: What is my punishment teaching him?

When I finally took a breather, I realized that while punishments had quenched the appetite of my anger, they may not be teaching him a life lesson. In fact, nothing I had done in reaction to my son’s poor grades had anything to do with academics.

A simple question echoed in my mind, “Do I have a clue about how an A student becomes an F student seemingly overnight?”

The longer I thought about it, the more I reasoned that quickly jumping into multiple punishments might be a missed opportunity.

Stage 4: I can’t take EVERYTHING away

After having a few more days to think, I decided to soften my approach. I would sit down with Yosef to plan for getting the academic train back on the tracks.

My son and I talked about being organized, not getting behind, openly communicating and how to keep on top of our busy lives. I offered my help and Yosef, finally, agreed that he could use it from time to time. He agreed for daily school check-ins before leaving for any extracurricular activities. I agreed to be more proactive, checking his progress on the school’s online system each night and helping craft a plan for the next day’s priorities.

Our chat felt good – like we were more like trusted colleagues than father and son. It probably helped that in doing so, I didn’t erupt into a screaming, short, blonde version of the late comic Sam Kinison.

As we wrapped up, together, we decided that Yosef could play football. I wanted him to stay active and social.

Understanding the need to have a way to communicate, I allowed him to carry his phone under the stipulation I checked it each day when he arrived home.

Instead of automatically signing Yosef up for all household chores, I limited the manual labor to mostly yard work (which, honestly, I hate anyway).

My Kid’s Failing Stage 5: Trying to mend the fences.

Like most decisions I make on behalf of my kids, I found myself reflecting on the parenting job I’m doing more than obsessing about improving Yosef’s grades. Part of me felt like I’d been too easy – continuing to give my son the benefit of the doubt that he hadn’t earned.

I wondered if my actions would even have an impact on Yosef’s grades and, more importantly, our relationship.

Suddenly, I started to think about working harder to stay informed for my other kids – all of whom are in elementary school where grades seem an afterthought to having fun and trying. I brainstormed about how truly present I am with them each day.

Mostly, though, I thought about having wished away my kids’ early years of limited sleep and diaper changing. I sat longing for the timeout chair to correct any wrongs and erase the cloud of adolescent misbehavior that doesn’t seem to lift.

Parenting an older child is different – requiring more.

Maybe I needed a timeout to realize it.

Photo by Thought Catalog on Unsplash

Fatherhood causes one to be reflective about a great many things. There is the grand mystery of life itself, the mystery of those weird silica packets that come in brand new shoes. (Really, why are they there and why do they tell you not to eat them? How many people eat things that come in shoes? Really.).

And there is the mystery of one’s own childhood. A lot of people like to blame their parents for things. Today, I would like to do something different.  I need to atone for some things.  So …

Mom, I am sorry.

I am sorry for the pain I caused you through the sheer joy of mischief that I enjoyed. Like the time I tried to frame you and dad for child abuse in the Sears department store because you wouldn’t buy me a toy.

I’m sorry, Mom.

For the time I stole your yarn and pretended to be Spider-Man. I knotted said three balls of yarn to every possible piece of furniture in the living room and turned off the lights before you and dad came home that one night, and you guys both fell into my web and some stuff broke. I laughed quietly in the dark but later regretted it when you guys found my hiding place.

I’m sorry, Mom.

For knocking over spilling (it is a very delicate skill to control an “accidental” spill) my Kool Aid on the nasty delicious vegetables you spent a long time cooking and that I refused to eat. But, boy, our family dog sure did live a long time – I take credit for that.

I’m sorry, Mom.

For the holes in the wall, the broken window, and the time I caught the kitchen drapes on fire because I buttered the toast before I put it in the toaster – and then the subsequent damage I caused by playing fire marshal.

I’m sorry, Mom.

For falling asleep (and snoring) during the first act of Les Miserables when you spent a lot of money on lower level section tickets just to culture me. (I’m sorry, but that one girl still sounds like Cyndi Lauper to me in “Bring Him Home” – I know that isn’t a cultured critique).

I’m sorry, Mom.

For sitting in the front pew with you at church and covering my ears (so everyone could see that I was) when the senior choir stood up to sing … and then falling asleep (and snoring) during the sermon.

I’m sorry, Mom.

For the time I snuck off to the corner store to play video games for two hours and you didn’t know where I was. I spent over $6 in quarters playing Double Dragon and I was mad at you when you pulled me out of the store because I almost beat the game and still had three credits left in the machine. And I pouted all the way home.

I’m sorry, Mom.

The time I argued with you that wrestling was real and I got mad at you for correcting all the typos in my WWF magazine.

I’m sorry, Mom.

I hope that by apologizing it will buy me some good parenting karma. Ha! Mom, I know you are reading, thanks for being patient with me as a kid.  I love you and I am sorry.

But I did have a lot of fun. LOL.

A version of this first appeared on Tales from the Poop Deck. Photo by Matthew Henry on Unsplash

I recently came across an article online a family psychologist wrote about the most common parenting mistakes. I can’t afford a family psychologist, so I read it in hope of getting some free tips.

The advice wasn’t actually bad, but it was not always realistic, especially for a parent of young kids. It did have some good advice for parents with older kids but I’m totally going to forget all of it by the time it’s relevant to my life.

But just because there’s some solid, viable advice in there doesn’t mean that I won’t mock it. So here we go!

Most Common Parenting Mistakes

1. Giving your kids too many choices – When I give my son a choice, it’s usually a fake choice. It makes him think he’s in control when he’s actually … totally in control but shut up, that’s not my point! Even a fake choice is an upgrade from my childhood. When I was growing up, my parents gave me one choice: sit down and shut up.
2. Praising your kids for everything they do – Just last night, when I asked my son, Detective Munch, to clean up his toys and get ready for bed and he didn’t move a muscle, I said, “Wow! Great job ignoring me, buddy!”
3. Trying to make your kids happy – My kid is actually MORE annoying when he’s happy, so whenever possible I have no problem shutting that down .
4. Overindulging your kids – See above.
5. Keeping your kids too busy – I dunno. If he’s busy, he gets tired. When he gets tired, he sleeps. I like that math.
6. Thinking ‘smart’ will save them – We’re on the same page here. Intelligence isn’t a cure-all. I like to think of myself as being pretty smart, but I still had two kids, so maybe not. So while I encourage my son to learn and think, this is America, so I mostly stress the points of being rich and good-looking.
7. Thinking a strict religion will give children perfect values and save them – Haha, no, I don’t think that. I’ve seen the news!
8. Withholding common information about important topics — like sex – Again, good advice! I try to be open and honest about sex with my kids. But is our weekly Pornhub movie night going too far?
9. Being hypercritical of your kids’ mistakes – Don’t worry, I don’t have the kind of time necessary to criticize my son’s mistakes. He’s 5. All he makes are mistakes. He’s downright prolific.
10. Using shame, shunning or threats – Two out of three ain’t bad, right? Because we all threaten our kids. It’s either that or bribing them.
11. Making kids do things inappropriate for their age – Do you mean “inappropriate” like forcing him to prep dinner? Or “inappropriate” like making him do the Buffalo Bill dance from Silence of the Lambs when we have guests over? I need more specifics.
12. Not limiting screen time – This was never an issue for us … and then we had a baby. Sorry, family psychologist, but I need the 5-year-old off my back for a bit. CUT ME SOME SLACK!
13. Not letting kids get bored – There’s a way to stop kids from getting bored? TELL ME YOUR SECRETS!
14. Protecting kids from their own consequences and loss – Does pointing at him and yelling, “IN YOUR FACE!” at the end of another Connect Four blowout count? If so, I have this covered.
15. Not letting your kids explore the outdoors – Not letting them? I’m begging them! We’re even installing a doggie-door.
16. Not debriefing kids at bedtime – I am constantly asking my son about his day. But it doesn’t matter how many times I beg him for some info, it’s always “I don’t remember!” or “I already told Mommy!” or “UGGGGGGGGGGGGGGH.” Kids are fun!
17. Not reading to very young children – I mostly enjoy reading to my kids. Does it matter what we read? I’m trying to finish the 50 Shades of Grey trilogy before it’s due back at the library and I figured we could multitask.
18. Pulling pacifiers too soon – People pull pacifiers too soon? Detective Munch never took to one (he has a lovey instead), but I’ll let his younger brother, The Hammer, suck a pacifier ’til he’s 18 if it means hearing “no!” less often.
19. Not regulating food – This one is about not letting them eat too much. Haha, as if my kid will ever eat too much! The only regulating I do during meals is regulating how much time he spends hiding under the table and then regulating how many drinks I have before he goes to bed.
20. Spanking children older than 5 – Wait, I’m allowed to spank them when they’re under five? WOO HOO!!!

A version of Common Parent Mistakes this first appeared on Dad and Buried.

Not saying “sorry” to your kid is a thing, apparently. A thing parents actually do. On purpose. For what illogical reasons I can only guess: to be tough, to be dominant, to show no sign of weakness?

I cannot imagine not being upfront and honest with my kids, or with anyone really, and admitting fault, asking for forgiveness and apologizing. I’m no less strong a man or parent for having said “I’m sorry.”

“If There Is No Struggle, There Is No Progress” — Frederick Douglass

The brilliant 19th century abolitionist wasn’t referring to raising children or to the relative hardships of a 20th century white middle-class young man either, but his words have come to define my existence and helped shape not only my world view but also my life as a dad to a pair of daughters. Parenting will, at times, be difficult and mistakes will undoubtedly be made, but if we acknowledge and look to pull lessons out of those struggles, they may lead to progress. Another great man once said true love travels on a gravel road, and I’d add that you have to recognize the bumpiness along the way to come out the other side better for the experience. This is why I apologize to my kids when I screw up.

Being an omniscient tour de force of a father was never my calling because living on a shaky pedestal is a hindrance to evolution in the role. I don’t want to be a dad who always has to be right, I want to be a man who’s always looking to improve as a dad.

There’s a story my mom still tells of my most flamboyant, youthful indiscretion. I was 17, driving with no car insurance, an expired registration and a suspended license as a result of the first two — The Holy Trinity of stupid. I was then pulled over for speeding in a school zone. My mother quickly realized the officer who hit the traffic stop jackpot that day was a customer of the locally owned pharmacy where she worked. He offered leniency as a result of this good relationship but I declined. I was in the wrong and didn’t want a “get out of jail free” card (note: I was not under arrest, but the metaphor still works). I accepted the one-year suspension of my driver’s license and hefty fine, and said sorry to him and to my parents. I was a fool and knew that I needed to learn the hard way from my mistakes.

I went on to make more mistakes as a husband and a father, and in every case I apologized to those aggrieved, even if they were 18 months or 11 years of age. I apologize to my kids when I am wrong because what would I be teaching them if I stubbornly dug in to defend my flawed position? Nothing good, that’s what. There’s a time to be steadfast and strong, but it is not when you are wrong or when you’ve messed something up for someone you love and who loves you. That is precisely the time to take personal responsibility and own up to the error, to talk it out, apologize, grow and make progress as a person and as a parent. These are the lessons and the mindset I am trying to pass on to my daughters every time I am upfront with them and apologize; the understanding that you will be wrong and make mistakes in life but refusing to admit fault will never make you right. That stubborn behavior and refusal to apologize will only damage relationships, even and maybe especially those with your children.

I pride myself on being extremely reliable to my wife and kids, but sometimes I don’t deliver on promises made; whether it’s not remembering to pick up a library book for my oldest girl before we leave for vacation or missing my youngest daughter’s second-grade class party. I could easily make excuses or worse, deny ever agreeing to do or attend those things but my kids would always know the truth and will begin to see their daddy cast with shadows where there was once only light. And for what — to project some kind of manufactured outward strength? That’s asinine. I am not made weaker by apologizing to my kids when an apology is called for. In fact, quite the opposite. My willingness to say “I’m sorry” when I’m in the wrong moves me into a position of greater strength and of enhanced trustworthiness. My daughters will know their dad is putting it all on the line, all of the time, so that if, by chance, I once again fail to keep a promise or make some other mistake, they’ll expect and demand nothing but the truth, a request for a hug and a heartfelt apology from a dad who respects and loves them too much to deny them that; a dad who wants progress from struggle.

Do you ever apologize to your child?

There’s this intersection where I grew up, not far from my parents’ house, that gives me pause every time I drive through it.

Years ago, right after I got my license, I got into a car accident at that intersection. As I was turning left under the light, I somehow missed one car that hadn’t yet cleared the way. I walked away dazed but unscathed, my mother’s beloved Maxima crumpled up behind me.

When I visit my hometown, I inevitably find myself back at the scene of the crime. It’s impossible to go anywhere worthwhile (i.e., the package store, the bar, the restaurant with all the beer) without crossing that intersection. And every time I drive past, I recall – if not relive – that accident. And I wonder what I could have done differently. Which isn’t entirely healthy.

It reminds me of being a parent. I am worried about my kid repeating mistakes I made.

I haven’t made many. I switched to contact lenses too late. I anxietied away an opportunity to study abroad. I’m a Dolphins fan. And I got in that car accident. Other than that, I’ve done just about everything right. (Please no one contact me to list my other mistakes. I’m far too fragile.)

Obviously I’m not concerned with my son getting in a car accident at that same intersection – by the time he can drive, cars will be steering themselves. But when his personality is already so closely aligned with mine, it’s easy to envision plenty of situations in which he follows in my footsteps. For better or worse.

So how do you prevent your kids from making the same mistakes you made? I don’t think you can. And I’m not sure you should.

I’ve written before about the ways parents reflect their parents, both in behavior and in genetics, and I’ve already witnessed my son’s precocious appropriation of my sarcasm and super-hotness. Some things are simply inevitable. But some things aren’t, and that’s where parenting comes in. Right?

Eh. Maybe.

We really only have a few years during which we rule the roost as our kids’ primary influences. Once they hit elementary school their friends start weighing in. As they get older, the media they consume starts changing their views, and, in some cases, teachers and other mentors gain some control. Then they become teenagers, and they stop listening to you just for kicks. If you haven’t laid the groundwork early, and if you don’t stay involved no matter how ferociously they fight for independence, you’re not going to have a chance to relay your own experiences. No matter how relevant they may or may not be.

That’s what makes being a parent so hard. It’s not a part-time gig; you have to stay involved ALL THE TIME. 24/7/365/However-long-you-live. Because kids notice those times you aren’t involved more than the others; it’s the lapses that stick with them. A few too many and they’ll close themselves off from whatever wisdom you may have to offer and you’ll lose your influence for good.

Despite the natural urge to always want to protect your kids, parenting isn’t about swooping in to prevent them from making a mistake. It’s about being there by their side, always, even when they don’t want you there, especially when they doesn’t want you there. Especially when you don’t want you there! You need to be as constant as the sun, as reliable as taxes. That way they know they can come to you, that way maybe they actually will at those critical moments.

You can’t stop him from doing something, but you can offer up your own experiences as guideposts, along with your knowledge of who he is, who you were, and the implications and potential consequences of all of that. And let him make up his own mind. You have to let him go, and then you have to be there later, in the aftermath, whether they’ve taken whatever advice you’ve offered or not.

Growing up is all about making mistakes. It’s not the easy wins that shape who we become, it’s the missteps and failures. Mistakes are what make us; expending energy trying to avoid them is a waste of time, and often a missed opportunity. I’m a perfect example.

Sure, if I’d switched to contacts before college instead of after, I’d probably be married to Emily Blunt and sleeping on stacks of money right now. But I wouldn’t have my son, either. And he is worth much more than a great prom photo, and a still drive-able Nissan Maxima.

Sorry, Mom.

A version of Repeating Mistakes first appeared on Dad and Buried.

I went into parenthood thinking that I would show my daughter my flaws whenever possible, so that she understood what it meant to be human. However, about a year and a half into my journey as a parent I discovered that my daughter saw me as a Superman, impervious to pain, sorrow, lying and mistakes. But I admit — I am an imperfect dad. So, I hope she will find some use in what I am about to share.

Do Not Fear Failure

Why do we fall down? So we can get back up again. I have become an full-fledged advocate of this expression. Failing at something does not inherently mean you are a failure. It just means you tried.

Right around when my daughter turned 3, she created a song completely on her own. The title of the song was “Try, Try Again.” What a fantastic message, especially for a 3 year old. I couldn’t have agreed more. So, my daughter should adopt a growth mindset. Take chances. What I mean is, she should raise her hand in class and not fear an incorrect answer. Step up and take the last-minute shot or penalty kick or swing away in the bottom of the ninth.

I spent too much of my life making very calculated and completely safe decisions. Because of this, I did not pursue many great opportunities, and my career in education stalled. For years, I feared applying to a fantastic and well-respected graduate program in educational leadership, just because it was in an Ivy League institution. What I needed to learn was that a piece of paper or phone call telling me I was rejected from this school or not the right candidate for that position was not a true reflection of me or my capabilities. So, after much growth and support from my wife, I finally applied for admittance to this program. Not only was I accepted, but I also graduated in excellent standing. Writer Joseph Chilton Pearce sums it up well when he said, “To live a creative life, we must first lose the fear of being wrong.”

Don’t Settle When it Comes to Love

Although this advice to not settle is not exclusive to dating and relationships, I think it applies to this incredibly well. You see, this imperfect dad, before he was a dad, took a chance on dating and marrying the woman who became your mother. I spent a long time in very safe relationships, often with people who liked me more than I them. I also found ways to sabotage good relationships with people for whom I had strong feelings.

With my wife, it was different. I knew I couldn’t and shouldn’t mess this up. However, I had numerous reasons to look for a parachute and escape. We are not of the same race. She has a close family, with some very conservative members. She is insanely smart and holds a PhD in a scientific field I have yet to even slightly comprehend. But I did not settle. She was the right person for me, so I did what I needed to do to secure her love and support. Best decision I ever made.

So, whomever my daughter falls for, man or woman, she should not settle when it comes to love. Apple’s Steve Jobs once said, “If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking. Don’t settle. As with all matters of the heart, you’ll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on.”

Be a Hero, Not a Bystander

I have not always been the vocal advocate for social justice I am now. There are periods of time in my life decades ago when I would just let insensitive and inappropriate comments go. I would not share my disgust, disappointment, and disapproval. I now live by the philosophy of “not letting it go”, which is especially relevant as a parent, family member, and educator. Ignorant comments must be addressed. Prejudice must be addressed. Microaggressions must be addressed. Ignorance must be aided. If these are not addressed, more people will be hurt, or ignored, or become disillusioned. I want my daughter to be an ally of social justice, because as The Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. once said, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”

I write this as a reminder to my daughter that I am flawed, an imperfect dad. I have made mistakes and will continue to do so. Part of my job as her father is to share life lessons in the hope that she will learn from her old man’s mistakes. Most importantly, I don’t want her to be afraid to make her own mistakes. How else will she learn?

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