Be nice to your children. After all, they are going to choose

“Be nice to your children. After all, they are going to choose your nursing home.” These words, spoken with the dry wit of Steven Wright, the philosopher of humor, sparkle with laughter on the surface — yet beneath them lies a truth as ancient as the generations of humankind. What he utters in jest, the wise will hear as counsel. For in this brief and clever saying, Wright captures the great cycle of care and consequence, of how the way we treat others — especially those we raise — will one day return to us, as surely as the tide returns to the shore.

The origin of this quote lies in comedy, yet its wisdom is no less profound because of its laughter. Like the jesters of old who cloaked truth in mirth, Steven Wright reveals through irony what many fear to confront directly: that time reverses all roles. The parent who now guides, protects, and commands will one day depend upon the very hands that once reached up to them for help. The laughter he provokes is nervous because it carries recognition — the understanding that love, when freely given, becomes the only true wealth that endures when strength fades and years grow heavy.

The ancients, too, spoke of this law. In the East, the sages of Confucius taught that filial piety — the honor of children toward parents — is the foundation of virtue. But they also warned that such respect must be earned through kindness and example. For no command can force the heart to love; it must be inspired. In this way, Wright’s jest speaks a universal truth: how we love determines how we will be loved. To be “nice” to one’s children is not merely to offer comfort or indulgence, but to sow the seeds of compassion, patience, and trust that will one day return as the fruit of mercy.

Let us look to the story of King Lear, that tragic monarch of Shakespeare’s making. In his pride, he demanded love as tribute, dividing his kingdom according to flattery rather than truth. He rewarded deceit and punished honesty. In his old age, when frailty came upon him, he found himself cast aside by those he had raised in vanity. Only the one daughter he had wronged — Cordelia — remained true, though his folly had destroyed them both. Thus the tale teaches that the heart we cultivate in our children becomes the mirror of our own. Wright’s words, though modern and light, carry the same warning: that neglect and pride will one day echo in loneliness, while kindness and humility will return as care.

Yet the quote also carries a gentle humor, reminding us not to take our authority too seriously. Parenthood is not ownership, but stewardship — a sacred trust. The laughter here is not cruel, but cleansing, freeing us from the illusion that we can control how love will return to us. We may shape the child, but we cannot bind the soul. What we can do is live in such a way that our children remember warmth, not fear; gentleness, not scorn. For when our strength wanes, it is not obligation that sustains us, but affection. Respect may compel obedience, but only love compels compassion.

In every family, there will come a day when the generations exchange places. The child becomes the guardian, the parent becomes the one in need. This is not tragedy, but the natural rhythm of life — the great wheel of care turning round. To be mindful of this is to live with wisdom. For when we remember that we, too, will one day depend on those who depend on us now, we learn humility, patience, and gratitude. And in that learning, we ensure that love will outlive us.

So, my child of laughter and truth, hear this lesson hidden in humor: be kind while you have strength, for strength fades; be gentle while you have power, for power passes. Sow love in the hearts of your children, and one day, when the shadows of age gather around you, that same love will light your dwelling — whether it be a palace or a nursing home. For in the end, it is not walls or wealth that protect the weary soul, but the tenderness we once gave freely, now returned. And that, beneath the cloak of comedy, is the eternal wisdom of Steven Wright’s jest: that life gives back to us exactly what we have given to others — no more, and no less.