I have this blanket thing about giving parenting advice to

In the words of Drew Lachey, there is a counsel wrapped in irony yet rooted in deep wisdom: “I have this blanket thing about giving parenting advice to parents, and that’s: ‘Don’t take other people’s advice on parenting.’” At first, it sounds like a jest, a contradiction meant only to amuse. But beneath the humor lies a timeless truth—that no book, no elder, no stranger can fully know the heart of your child. For each child is a world, and each parent a navigator, and the map cannot be drawn by another’s hand.

The ancients often spoke of the uniqueness of souls. The Oracle at Delphi declared, “Know thyself,” for each human being carries within them mysteries no other can unravel. In the same way, to know one’s child is not to rely on the wisdom of others, but to enter into a sacred intimacy between parent and child, an intimacy that outsiders cannot fully penetrate. Thus, Lachey’s playful paradox becomes a shield of truth: beware the endless flood of voices offering advice, for while they may carry fragments of wisdom, only the parent who walks with the child daily can discern what is truly needed.

History bears witness to this lesson. Consider the mother of Alexander the Great, Olympias. She was counseled by many on how to shape her son, and advisors filled her ears with strategies. Yet she chose to follow her own instincts, nurturing his fierce ambition and belief in destiny. Alexander became one of the greatest conquerors of all time. Whether one judges his empire as glory or destruction, one cannot deny that it was his mother’s unique vision—not the recycled advice of courtiers—that molded him. In her, we see the danger and the power of refusing to yield to others’ prescriptions for parenting.

Lachey’s words also remind us of the burden parents often carry: the weight of judgment. In markets, schools, and even among kin, advice flows freely, often cloaked in superiority. But such advice can wound more than it helps, leaving parents doubting themselves, torn between voices. To refuse such advice is not arrogance—it is courage. It is the recognition that parenting is not about perfection in the eyes of others, but about faithfulness to the bond between parent and child.

The meaning, then, is clear: parenting cannot be taught from the outside, only learned from within. A parent may glean wisdom here or there, but the ultimate compass is found not in other people’s opinions, but in love, patience, and daily presence. Advice from others may be like a lantern on the road, but the journey must still be walked by the parent, step by step, often in the dark, guided not by secondhand maps but by the stars of their own devotion.

What, then, must we do? First, let us silence the temptation to judge and dictate to others, remembering that we cannot know their children as they do. Second, let us, as parents, trust ourselves—listening less to the clamor of advice and more to the quiet voice within, the one that grows sharper the longer we walk beside our children. Third, let us treat advice not as command, but as suggestion, sifting it carefully, keeping only what resonates with our child’s unique spirit.

O seekers of wisdom, remember this: to raise a child is to enter into a covenant unlike any other. No stranger can fulfill it, no outsider can dictate it. Your child is your text, your path, your mystery. And so, Drew Lachey’s words, though laced with humor, speak with the weight of truth: the best parenting advice may be not to heed the chorus of others, but to walk the path of love with your own two feet, learning as you go.

Thus, the teaching endures: listen less to the multitude, listen more to your heart, and above all, listen most to your child. For they will teach you what no advice ever could. And in that listening, you will find your way.