Let’s face it: parenting can be exhausting, beautiful, messy, and complicated all at once.
Between diaper blowouts, preschool drop-offs, and late-night fevers, we’re just trying to keep the wheels turning.
In that blur, it’s easy to fall back on phrases we heard growing up—things our own parents might have said with the best intentions.
But here’s the thing: some of those “caring” phrases actually twist the message. They sound loving on the surface but subtly manipulate kids into compliance, guilt, or dependence.
I’ve caught myself saying a few of these before, and every time I’ve had to step back and think: Is this really what I want my kids to learn about love, responsibility, or themselves?
So let’s break down eight common phrases and why they might not be as caring as they sound.
1. “I’m only doing this because I love you”
At first glance, this seems harmless—even sweet. But what it often communicates is: love equals control.
When we pair discipline or restrictions with this phrase, kids learn that love justifies manipulation. They start to associate affection with giving up their autonomy.
As noted by HealthyChildren.org, using harsh control tactics like spanking doesn’t teach responsibility—it increases aggression and undermines self-control in the long run.
A better alternative? Be direct about the behavior: “I need you to hold my hand in the parking lot because cars can’t always see little kids.”
Love is the foundation, yes, but it shouldn’t be wielded as a tool for compliance.
2. “You’re making me sad when you act this way”
This one sneaks out of my mouth when I’m running on fumes. But the truth is—it flips the roles.
Instead of guiding my child through their feelings, I’m making my emotions their responsibility.
That’s not a burden kids should carry. They already struggle to regulate their own emotions. When we tie our happiness to their behavior, we teach them that they’re responsible for fixing how others feel.
As Rudá Iandê writes in his book Laughing in the Face of Chaos, “Their happiness is their responsibility, not yours.”
It reminded me that while I can model calmness and repair when I lose it, my emotional world is mine to own—not my kids’.
3. “You’re so smart!”
I used to gush this at my daughter Elise after every puzzle or drawing. But then I read the research: praising kids for being smart can actually backfire, reducing their motivation to tackle harder challenges.
Why? Because the message becomes: Your value is in your intelligence. So when they hit something tough, they think, Maybe I’m not smart after all.
I’ve been working on flipping this with Elise. Instead of “You’re so smart,” I’ll say: “I noticed you kept trying even when the puzzle was tricky—that persistence is awesome.”
It takes some rewiring on my part, but the focus shifts from innate ability to effort and growth.
4. “Don’t cry, it’s not a big deal”
I get the instinct. No parent enjoys watching their kid cry over a dropped ice cream cone.
But dismissing feelings—no matter how small they seem to us—teaches kids to doubt their own emotional experience.
The psychologist Ailsa Lord explains that children learn coping not just from what we tell them but from how we handle emotions ourselves. If we shut theirs down, they learn to bottle it up.
Instead, I try to acknowledge the feeling first: “I can see you’re really disappointed about your ice cream.” Only after that do I move toward problem-solving: “Let’s go home and make milkshakes together.”
It doesn’t take away the sting, but it shows my kids that emotions are valid and manageable.
5. “If you really loved me, you’d listen”
This one is sneaky because it’s usually said in frustration, not malice. But it teaches kids that obedience equals love. That’s a dangerous equation.
Love should never be conditional on compliance. Otherwise, kids grow up equating boundaries with rejection and obedience with worthiness.
That’s not the framework I want my kids to carry into their future relationships.
A healthier swap? “When you don’t listen, it makes things unsafe. Let’s try again.”
That shifts the focus back to behavior without dangling love as the prize.
6. “Be a good boy/girl for me”
I’ve caught myself saying this to Julien before dropping him at daycare—half habit, half desperation for a smooth handoff.
But it plants a seed: Goodness is about pleasing others, not being true to yourself.
When “good” is defined externally, kids grow into people who chase approval rather than listening to their own compass. They learn to shape-shift, not self-direct.
I’m learning to replace this with specific encouragement: “Have fun building today” or “I hope you laugh a lot at storytime.”
It affirms them without tying their worth to behavior labels.
7. “You’ll understand when you’re older”
This one feels like a shortcut when I don’t have the time—or patience—to explain. But the subtext is dismissive: Your curiosity doesn’t deserve an answer right now.
Sure, some topics need age-appropriate framing. But brushing off questions robs kids of learning opportunities and teaches them to stop asking.
When Elise hits me with a question I’m not ready to unpack—like why some families look different from ours—I’ll pause and say: “That’s a really thoughtful question. Let’s talk about it tonight when I can give you a better answer.”
That way I’m honoring her curiosity while buying myself time.
8. “Don’t worry, everything’s fine”
It’s instinctive to smooth things over when kids feel scared. But “everything’s fine” doesn’t always match their reality.
If Elise hears a siren outside and asks, “Is someone hurt?”, and I brush it off with “Don’t worry,” she learns not to trust her own perception.
Kids need honesty, just scaled to their capacity. Something like: “Yes, that’s an ambulance. It means someone might need help. But we’re safe here at home.”
It acknowledges the concern without overloading them.
And honestly? This shift has helped me too. It reminded me of something from Rudá Iandê’s book:
“When we stop resisting ourselves, we become whole. And in that wholeness, we discover a reservoir of strength, creativity, and resilience we never knew we had.”
Sometimes, that wholeness starts with letting kids feel what they feel instead of patching it over with false reassurance.
Final thoughts
Parenting phrases carry more weight than we realize. They can plant seeds that bloom into resilience—or patterns of guilt and people-pleasing.
I don’t always get it right. Some nights Camille and I collapse on the couch, replaying the things we wish we’d said differently.
But that’s part of it: catching ourselves, repairing when we slip, and slowly swapping manipulation for honesty.
The payoff is huge. Our kids grow up knowing emotions are safe to feel, mistakes are safe to own, and love is steady no matter what.
And maybe that’s the real goal. Not raising “good kids” who never cry or question us, but whole kids who trust themselves and know love isn’t a bargaining chip.
