Parenting is not giving your child everything they want.

When GloZell spoke the words: “Parenting is not giving your child everything they want. Parenting is not being your child’s friend. Parenting is about preparing your child to be a useful and respectful person in society,” she unveiled a truth as old as civilization itself. In these words is the rejection of indulgence and the embrace of duty. Parenting, she reminds us, is not the easy path of pleasing, nor the shallow path of friendship, but the harder and nobler path of preparing the next generation for the weight of life.

The origin of this wisdom lies in the struggles of families since time began. Too often, parents confuse love with indulgence, mistaking the granting of every desire as proof of care. Yet indulgence breeds weakness, and friendship without guidance breeds confusion. The ancients understood this: in Sparta, children were raised with discipline to endure hardship, not to be softened by comfort. In Confucian teaching, parents were guides and moral anchors, entrusted with shaping their children into beings who could uphold order, respect, and harmony in society. GloZell’s words echo these traditions — a call to raise children not for pleasure, but for purpose.

History gives us living examples. Consider the story of George Washington’s mother, Mary Ball Washington, who raised her son with stern discipline and a relentless focus on respect and duty. Though he longed for independence, her unwavering guidance forged in him the strength and honor that later helped him lead a nation. She did not strive to be his friend, nor to give him every comfort; she strove to make him a man capable of carrying the burdens of leadership. Her discipline became his greatness.

The emotional depth of GloZell’s words lies in the challenge they set before parents. For every mother and father longs to be loved by their child, to see their child’s eyes shine with joy. Yet true parenting requires the courage to endure disappointment, to withstand resentment, to guide with firmness even when the child cries for ease. Love does not always feel sweet — sometimes it feels like steel. But that steel shapes character, and character lasts long after childhood fades.

Her teaching is also heroic, for it calls parents to think beyond the walls of their home, to see their children as future members of society. Parenting is not simply about keeping peace in the household, but about forging human beings who will contribute, respect others, and carry responsibility. To raise a child is to raise a citizen of the world. A parent’s task, then, is as mighty as that of kings and lawmakers, for it is parents who shape the very fabric of civilization.

The lesson here is clear: parenting is not about pleasing, but about preparing. To give a child everything is to rob them of gratitude; to be their friend is to deprive them of guidance. But to shape them with both love and discipline is to prepare them for the trials of life, where society will not bend to their every desire. A child raised in indulgence stumbles at the first resistance of the world. A child raised in respect and purpose can stand tall, adapt, and contribute.

Practical actions must follow: parents must set boundaries with love, granting not everything but what is good. They must model respect in their own words and actions, teaching by example more than by lecture. They must balance tenderness with firmness, ensuring that children know both comfort and correction. And they must remember always that their task is not short, but generational: the shaping of lives that will one day shape others.

So let GloZell’s words be remembered as ancient wisdom for modern times: parenting is not indulgence, nor shallow friendship, but preparation. To raise a child rightly is to forge a soul capable of respect, usefulness, and dignity. And those who take up this sacred labor with courage will give to the world not just children, but men and women of strength, wisdom, and honor.