I used to panic when I messed up—like I had failed not just at the task, but at being good enough. That feeling stuck with me for years. And now, as a parent, I notice how easy it is to pass that same fear onto my kids without meaning to. The pressure to get it right, to be perfect, to avoid falling behind. But I don’t want that for them. I want something softer. Something real.
So I teach my children that mistakes aren’t proof that they’re broken or behind. Mistakes are how they learn. They’re how the brain works things out, how the heart gets stronger, how wisdom forms over time. When they spill something, or forget something, or say something they regret—I don’t ask, What’s wrong with you? I ask, What did you notice? What might you try differently next time? Because that’s what life is—learning, not performing.
The truth is, I make mistakes too. I raise my voice when I’m tired. I miss things. I get it wrong. But instead of hiding that from them, I show them. I say, That wasn’t fair of me. Or, I was overwhelmed and I took it out on you, and I’m sorry. And in doing that, I hope I’m showing them what it means to keep growing. That it’s not about being flawless—it’s about being real, taking responsibility, and being willing to try again.
There’s so much freedom in seeing failure not as a dead end, but as a doorway. That’s what I want for my children. Not the burden of perfection, but the courage to keep learning, to keep showing up, to keep becoming. Mistakes don’t make them less. They make them human. And they are more than enough, just as they are, learning as they go.