I don't claim to know everything about parenting, but I do know

In the voice of LZ Granderson, we hear a truth both stern and compassionate: “I don’t claim to know everything about parenting, but I do know parents do their children a disservice by constantly sugarcoating their shortcomings to protect their feelings.” These words strike like a bell in the stillness, reminding us that love is not indulgence alone. To love rightly is to speak truth, even when truth stings. For the child who never meets the mirror of honesty will one day face the world unprepared, fragile as glass before the hammer of reality.

The ancients understood this balance well. The Spartans raised their children in discipline, teaching them to endure hunger, cold, and pain, that they might grow into warriors of resilience. Yet even in less martial lands, sages spoke of the dangers of false praise. In Proverbs, it is written, “Faithful are the wounds of a friend, but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful.” If even the wounds of a friend are to be treasured, how much more should a child value the honest correction of a parent? It is not cruelty, but a deeper form of love—love that looks not at today’s comfort, but tomorrow’s strength.

Consider the story of Thomas Edison. As a boy, he was restless, impatient, and often failed in his early lessons. His teachers called him “difficult” and “slow.” His mother, though encouraging, did not sugarcoat his struggles. She told him plainly that discipline and persistence would be required of him. She gave him both compassion and truth, and with that balance, Edison grew to become one of the greatest inventors of his age. Had she shielded him entirely from his failings, he may never have found the endurance to rise above them.

Granderson’s words remind us that to endlessly shield children from their shortcomings is to rob them of the chance to grow. A child told only that they are flawless will crumble when life proves otherwise. But a child who learns that their weaknesses can be faced, acknowledged, and overcome will not fear the world’s judgments. Instead, they will carry courage within, knowing that their worth is not lessened by imperfection, but strengthened by perseverance.

The lesson for us is clear: parenting is not about constant comfort, but about shaping souls to withstand life’s storms. Praise, when true, is nourishment; false praise is poison wrapped in honey. A child must know both their gifts and their flaws, for in the meeting of both lies the path to wisdom. To speak only of their brilliance is to inflate a hollow pride. To speak only of their failings is to crush their spirit. But to speak of both with balance is to forge resilience, humility, and strength.

What, then, must we do? First, let us watch our tongues, that they may speak truth tempered with love. Second, let us resist the urge to always protect their feelings at the cost of their growth. Third, let us teach by example, showing our children that even we, as parents, are imperfect, yet striving, and that to admit fault is no shame but a doorway to wisdom.

O parents, take heed: the world beyond your hearth will not always sugarcoat its lessons. Better that a child learns in the safety of your guidance how to face their weaknesses than to be broken by the first harsh wind of life. Your honest words, though sharp in the moment, may one day be remembered as the truest acts of love.

Thus, LZ Granderson’s words carry forward as a torch: let us not raise children of fragile pride, but of resilient strength. Speak the truth in love, correct with compassion, and guide with honesty. In this way, we gift our children not merely comfort, but the courage to walk the world with steadfast hearts.