Yesterday, my daughter posted something on Instagram. Nothing bad, really, just..not necessary. It wasn’t harmful, but it wasn’t aligned with her focus either, not the kind of post that reflected her goals, her direction, the thoughtful person she’s becoming.
My husband and I noticed it, and as parents do, we exchanged that quiet glance, the one that means, “We should talk about this.” We didn’t scold. We just wanted to ask why; what made her want to share it.
But before we even brought it up, she had already deleted it.
And I smiled a little. Not because we were right, but because she knew. She understood on her own. Maybe not completely, maybe just instinctively, that it didn’t feel right.
Still, that small moment stayed with me.
It reminded me how challenging parenting is: we knew too much. We see the long-term pattern behind every small act. We can tell when a habit will help or hurt character. We’ve lived and learned long enough to read patterns, sense consequences, and see ten steps ahead of the choices our kids make. So when they do something wrong, even if it’s minor, we can already imagine where it leads. We can define whether it’s harmless or dangerous, careless or significant. Sometimes, this awareness makes it hard to step back.
And that’s where it gets complicated. Because even though we know it’s normal for kids to make mistakes, it’s hard to just let them be. It’s not about control. It’s about awareness. We see, we understand, and sometimes we act before they even realize what they’ve done.
God knows how many moments we’ve watched quietly, letting things pass, forgiving small messes, forgotten chores, bad moods, or careless words. But at the same time, we don’t want those things to grow roots. We don’t want grace to turn into habit, or patience into permission.
That’s the daily dance of parenting: to forgive, but not to tolerate. To guide, but not to smother. To stay present, without taking over.
And even with all that balance, one thing remains the same: we never stop reminding them what’s good and what’s not.
Maybe they’ll hear it every day. And maybe one day, they’ll even roll their eyes at it and make a “sigh” sound. But that’s okay. Because values aren’t built from one big talk. They’re shaped by a thousand tiny ones. We watch, and we keep watching. Not with suspicion, but with care. If they make a mistake, even a tiny one, we correct it together. Not to punish, but to guide. So they learn to see the difference between just a mistake and a habit.
Parenting isn’t a sprint of reactions; it’s a rhythm of reminders. Every gentle correction, every “next time, think again,” plants a seed that says: “Come on, buddy, you’re capable of better, and I believe you can be.”
Because in the end, love isn’t just comfort. It’s also a direction. And watching closely doesn’t mean we don’t trust them, it means we care enough to help them grow the right way.
Jordan Peterson talks about this in his book, Rule 5 of 12 Rule of Life:
“Do not let your children do anything that makes you dislike them.”
He wasn’t being harsh; he was being deeply responsible. When we ignore small wrongs, we silently allow them to grow into something that could hurt them later. As Peterson reminds us, the world will judge our children someday. And honestly, our job is to prepare them before it does. So yes, we correct, we remind, we repeat, not because we crave control, but because we believe in their future.
That’s also why Rule 6: “Set your house in perfect order before you criticize the world” speaks so deeply to me. Home is the first world they experience, where they learn tone, trust, and truth. We keep our home orderly, not perfect, but intentional. Because what we model quietly shapes their compass later.
And maybe that’s why I think of it like The Karate Kid; How Mr. Miyagi trained Daniel through small, repetitive motions: “Wax on, wax off.” At first, it seemed pointless. But those small actions built discipline and patience. Parenting is similar; it involves everyday routines that may not seem important, but they shape character. Every “say thank you,” every “try again,” and every “that’s not how we speak to others” is our own “wax on, wax off.” We’re not controlling; we’re preparing for life.
That’s why wisdom in parenting isn’t about predicting outcomes; it’s about managing restraint. It’s about knowing when to step in and when to let them meet life directly. When to guide, and when to go quiet. When to let experience be part of the teaching.
Even philosophy agrees with what life has already taught us as parents: some lessons belong to them, but the foundation belongs to us. As Massimo Pigliucci wrote in How to Be a Stoic,
“Wisdom is knowing what belongs to you and what doesn’t.”
Their choices belong to them, but their foundation? That still belongs to us. We’re the ones who build it, brick by brick, through tone, example, and daily rhythm. Not through lectures, but through the habits we create together.
That’s the kind of parenting I believe in: active presence with wise restraint. We’re always there: not to control, but to shape. Not to shadow them, but to surround them with structure, values, and warmth. The goal isn’t to make their life easy, but to make their character strong.
And that’s why we pay attention even to the small things. Because everything builds into something bigger. There’s a proverb I hold close to my heart:
Watch your thoughts; they become words.
Watch your words; they become actions.
Watch your actions; they become habits.
Watch your habits; they become character.
Watch your character; it becomes your destiny.
That’s what we’re really building every day: Destiny.
Not in the dramatic sense, but in the quiet, consistent way that character forms over time.
When we remind them to be kind, to take responsibility, and to tell the truth. It’s not nagging; it’s laying bricks.
When we correct a careless word or a small lie, it’s not overreacting; it’s protecting the foundation.
Because every thought matters. Every word shapes something. And one day, those tiny daily habits and choices will help them stand strong. That’s why we’ll always be there, not to control every step, but to keep the ground steady under their feet.
Love,
Kirana
