How often have we heard:
– “It’s okay to fail as long as you try.”
– “It’s not how many times you get knocked down, but how many times you pick yourself back up.”
– “Trying and failing is better than never trying at all.”
(Or some version of these.)
We all know how important failing is for kids—it’s like their full-time job. It’s an inevitable part of life that is critical for their development.
As dads, we stress the importance of failing for character building, skill acquisition, and just overall life lessons. Whether it’s our little ones striking out in little league baseball, or spilling the milk when trying to pour themselves a glass, or, when our kids are teenagers and failing stings more, when they forget their lines in a school play, or get shot down by their romantic interest. Or when they’re adults and the failures can be more life altering after a failed marriage or losing their job.
Failure is bound to come at some point if we keep pushing our kids—and ourselves—to try new things and “be in the arena” (which we should).
But we also know that no matter the failure, we’re always there for our kids to pick them up. We’re in their corner with words of encouragement, letting them know that failure happens and everything is going to be okay, and then pushing them to get back out there.
But if we’re being honest, how often do we dads give ourselves this kind of grace?
Failure seems easier to forgive in others—especially our mini-mes—than it does in ourselves. As dads, we want to be the fixers, the problem-solvers, the steady hands that hold down the family, and a role model for our kids on how to navigate life. We can handle failure in everyone else (some moments we handle this better than others), but we need to give ourselves grace in the face of failure as well.
As a first-time dad myself, fatherhood seems to have failure as a built-in feature. I can’t count the amount of times I’ve shamed myself for losing my patience with my toddler that’s pushing every button (figuratively and literally) or beaten myself up for the times when I’ve plopped him down in front of the TV so I could get a little work done or plopped myself down in front of the TV instead of playing with trucks or building blocks with him.
The list goes on.
But it’s not that we want to fail but pretending that we aren’t going to at some point and then shaming ourselves for not being perfect doesn’t do anyone any good. Especially when we showcase this disappointment externally, our kids can and will pick up on that. The expectation to be perfect will make us not want to try and certainly not want to fail.
Which is exactly what we don’t want—for ourselves and for our kids.
Conversely, it’s more important when we fail that we can admit, “Hey, I messed that up,” and we correct the action or apologize for the inaction and vow to do better in the future (and, most important, take action to do it). In this way, we model something powerful for our kids: humility, accountability, and growth.
That trying and failing doesn’t have to be so bad.
It’s one thing to tell your kid to apologize when they’re wrong or out-of-line, and it’s another to show them how it’s done. Saying, “I shouldn’t have snapped at you earlier. I was frustrated and that’s not your fault. I was wrong and I apologize.” (I’ve had to say this exact phrase to my kid and to my wife.)
Having your kids witness this teaches them more about integrity than any lecture could.
And when we try something new—like coaching their team, or attempting to learn guitar, or finally getting around to learning that foreign language that you promised yourself you’d do this year—and it inevitably goes sideways (and it will—I know this from personal experience), it’s a chance for them to see you struggle, fail, regroup, and show them that perfection was never the goal anyway.
When that failure comes, it simply means we’re trying something new. Or it means we’re navigating new territory. Or it means we’re pushing past what’s easy. Or, sometimes, it means we erred because we’re human. Or, more likely, it’s a little bit of all of these combined.
And just as we teach our kids to try something new, to navigate new territory, and to push past what’s easy, or that as humans we err, we’re there to pick them back up when they fail because we know the importance of trying and failing for their growth.
As dads, we just need to make sure that we have the same amount of grace and understanding with ourselves when we fail as dads because it’s equally as important for our growth. We should hold ourselves to high standards—which is also important for our kids to witness—and not lower the bar in order to appear perfect.
It’s better to aim high, miss, and course correct than it is to aim low and always hit. The former is destined for growth while the latter is destined to stay the same.
And where’s the growth (or fun) in aiming low?
Our kids don’t need to see us being perfect (don’t try, it’s not possible anyways). They need to see us be human. To see us try, fail, and how we go about bouncing back and righting the situation.
So, don’t be so hard on yourself, dads. Our kids will be always watching and waiting to see how we react when we succeed and when we fail.
It’s important to show them that succeeding is the goal and achievement is great but failure is inevitable and that there’s learning and growth to be had in that.
It’s not just for kids. It’s for us dads, too. So go out there boldly, dads, and when you fail, fail boldly. Let them see what it’s like to fall down. Because every time we do, we teach our kids how to rise.
