How I Impart Life Lessons to My Kid

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“You know also that the beginning is the most important part of any work, especially in the case of a young and tender thing; for that is the time at which the character is being formed and the desired impression is more readily taken.” — Socrates, in Plato. “The Republic.”

Weekend mornings were always my son’s favorite. Not long after my husband would get up to make his morning coffee, my son would come into our room, climb into my husband’s spot on the bed, and say, “Momma, can we do life lessons?”

Where the idea came from, I can only guess—perhaps it was a hint from above. Though I have a degree in psychology, this wasn’t something I had read or heard about, nor something my mother had done with me.

It came about naturally enough. From the time my son was in kindergarten, I would try to talk with him about his day when he got home from school. Most of the time, his reply was a distracted “It was good” or “It was okay.” If I pressed a little further, asking whether anything fun or interesting had happened, he would usually respond with a quiet, almost inattentive “no.”

He would pause, think carefully, and then share his ideas. When his responses were thoughtful, kind, or understanding, I would commend him—and from there, our discussions would naturally deepen. We began to call them “life lessons.”

When I felt he needed guidance, I would share my opinion—sometimes asking what he thought of my idea or suggestion, whether he agreed, and why or why not. The goal was to help him reason things through and truly understand the why, so he could apply that ability beyond the moment itself. Occasionally, this required further explanation on my part until he fully understood the reasoning.

At times, I drew on my own personal experiences, from childhood or adulthood, to share stories and the lessons I had learned. He particularly loved hearing about my childhood and would always ask me to tell more.

One thing was certain—he loved our life lessons discussions.

I began posing different scenarios. For example, after he shared something that happened and what resulted from it, I might have asked, “So if she hadn’t returned the book she took from the little boy and had kept it for herself, how do you think he would feel? How do you think she would feel about herself later? Do you think she might do it to someone else? Would it make her feel like she could get away with doing more bad things in the future?”

I could see the wheels turning as he considered each question. It felt as though his little mind was expanding before my eyes. As Booker T. Washington said, “Character, not circumstances, makes the man,” and I wanted his character to be strong, no matter the circumstances.

I also began asking him “what if” questions, according to his level of thinking and understanding. As he grew a little older, I asked questions like, “What if Josh asked you to smoke a cigarette?” He quickly replied, “I would say no!”

I raised the stakes: “What if Aiden and Thomas walked over and said they’d smoke a cigarette—would you do it? What if they laughed at you because you wouldn’t?” He responded firmly, “I would say I don’t care, I’m not doing it.” I pressed further: “What if they kept laughing and more kids came over and laughed and called you a baby?” Without hesitation, he said, “I wouldn’t care. I would just walk away.”

I would come up with different scenarios to help him think ahead about situations he might encounter—to consider right and wrong, what was important to him, and how he would handle difficult moments. These quickly became some of his favorite exercises; he would even ask me to come up with more ideas, and sometimes I’d be stumped for new ones! I felt he was like a little sponge, soaking up everything we discussed.

For my part, I tried to guide him to be a good and kind person, one who is thoughtful of others. I steered him away from embarrassing someone, retaliating, or trying to hide his own mistakes—even if being honest might bring consequences.

For the most part, things in grade school were smooth, but there were a few occasions when other children were unkind. Even the teachers sometimes said they wished he would stand up for himself—and this stuck in my mind.

One day, my husband said that if someone hit him, he should hit back. I hesitated, then initially agreed out of a desire to protect my son. But after thinking it over, I realized that hitting back wasn’t the right response, and after discussing it with my husband, we concluded it was best to guide our son toward responding with strength and self-restraint rather than aggression. I sat down with our son and said, “If someone hits you, it’s best not to hit back and make them feel bad too, but you can tell them it’s not okay or walk away.”

Life lessons talks continued with my son even as he grew into middle and then high school. While he no longer climbed into my bed, I found similar opportunities, such as during our car rides—whether on the way to school, the store, or an event—for discussions. He still had the same interest in discussing what had happened, often seeking my understanding and input.

I believe this openness was a result of the foundation we had laid in his early years. Were the teen years smooth and without challenges? No, they weren’t—but to this day, while I know I am biased, my son has one of the kindest hearts and an almost uncanny ability to understand people on a deeper level.

Because I found this connection with my son so meaningful—and because I occasionally struggled to come up with ideas and topics to discuss—I’ve often thought about writing a “Life Lessons” book with ideas to inspire other parents. Who knows? Maybe I still will.

In a world where so many are easily swayed by money, fame, or countless other temptations, it’s crucial to give children a firm foundation: a sense of who they are, what they stand for, and how to navigate difficult situations. Give them a solid moral compass—and teach them how to think, not just what to think.

What we impart to our children—through our actions, our words, and the values we model and instill—ripples outward, shaping not only their character but the world they will create as they grow. In a society full of busyness and distractions, let us remember that children are not a distraction from more important work. They are the most important work.