No matter how much time you spend reading books or following

The words of Alan Arkin—“No matter how much time you spend reading books or following your intuition, you're gonna screw it up. Fifty times. You can't do parenting right.”—carry both humor and truth, spoken with the voice of one who has lived through the trials of raising children. At first, they may sound discouraging, but within them lies a liberating wisdom: perfection is not the destiny of a parent. The path of parenting is paved with mistakes, missteps, and regrets. Yet these very imperfections are what make the journey real, human, and full of love.

The ancients themselves knew this truth well. The great philosophers and teachers—Confucius, Socrates, Seneca—each spoke of the limits of human wisdom. They knew that no system of thought, no scroll of rules, could guarantee flawless outcomes. Likewise, in the family, no number of manuals, no amount of instinct, can prevent error. To raise a child is to walk in uncertainty, to try and to fail, and yet to keep trying again. Arkin’s words, though cast in humor, echo the ancient humility: to be human is to stumble, but to love is to rise after stumbling.

Consider the story of Thomas Edison, whose mother encouraged him when teachers declared him “unteachable.” No doubt she made mistakes in her parenting—as all do—but her steadfast faith in him, even when her methods were imperfect, allowed him to become one of history’s greatest inventors. She surely did not “get it right” every time, but she gave him what mattered: love and belief. Arkin’s words remind us that success in parenting is not found in flawless execution, but in unrelenting devotion despite countless errors.

This wisdom is crucial, for many parents are crushed under the weight of impossible expectations. They imagine that if they read enough, study enough, or trust their instincts enough, they can finally “get it right.” But Arkin pulls the veil away: even with the best intentions, you will fail—and fail often. Yet these failures are not the end of parenting; they are the substance of it. Each mistake becomes a lesson, each misstep a chance to apologize, to adjust, to show a child that imperfection is not shameful but natural.

The meaning, then, is not despair but freedom. If perfection is impossible, then the true goal is not flawlessness, but presence. A parent does not need to do it “right”; they need only to be there—to show up in love, to try again after failure, to keep walking beside their child even when uncertain. This is a higher calling than perfection, for it is rooted not in pride but in humility, not in control but in compassion.

The lesson for us is clear: release the burden of perfection. Instead, embrace honesty, resilience, and love. Admit mistakes to your children, for in doing so, you teach them courage and humility. Laugh at your errors when you can, and learn from them when you must. Remember that no child requires a perfect parent—they require a present one. The broken places of parenting, filled with sincerity, are often where the strongest bonds are forged.

Therefore, let your actions be these: show up daily, even when you feel inadequate. Apologize when you fail, for apology is itself a form of teaching. Let go of the fantasy of flawless parenting, and instead strive for love that perseveres through imperfection. In this way, your children will not remember you as perfect, but as steadfast, humble, and real.

Thus, Alan Arkin’s words shine like a paradoxical torch: you cannot do parenting “right,” but you can do it truly. The fifty mistakes, the countless stumbles, are not proof of failure but evidence of the effort and devotion poured into the task. Let every parent remember: the goal is not to raise children flawlessly, but to walk with them authentically, showing that love endures even when we fall short. In this, we come close to the deepest truth of what it means to be human—and to be a parent.