I used to think confidence was something kids either had or didn’t have. Like it was just part of their personality from birth.
Then I became a parent myself, and I started noticing patterns. The kids who walked into rooms with their heads held high, who asked questions without fear, who bounced back from disappointments quickly. They all seemed to have parents who did certain things differently.
I watch Emilia navigate her world now, testing boundaries and trying new things with zero hesitation. She’ll climb higher than I’m comfortable with at the playground, and I have to remind myself that my job isn’t to catch her before she falls. It’s to teach her how to get back up.
Here are the mistakes I see parents making that chip away at their children’s confidence, and what I’m trying to do differently.
1. Solving every problem before the child even tries
Last week at the park, I watched a dad immediately rush over when his son struggled to climb a piece of equipment. The kid hadn’t asked for help. He was figuring it out, trying different approaches, clearly engaged in the challenge.
His dad swooped in anyway, lifted him up, and set him at the top. The boy looked disappointed rather than proud.
I get it. Watching your kid struggle feels uncomfortable. You want to smooth the path, make things easier, protect them from frustration. But when you do that constantly, you send a message: “I don’t think you can handle this.”
Children who are constantly rescued from challenges often develop anxiety and low self-esteem because they never learn to trust their own problem-solving abilities.
When Emilia gets frustrated with a toy or task, I wait. I watch her try different approaches. Sometimes I’ll offer a gentle observation like “I see you’re working hard on that,” but I don’t jump in unless she asks or unless she’s genuinely stuck after multiple attempts.
The pride on her face when she finally succeeds? That’s what builds confidence. Not me doing it for her.
2. Praising everything equally without specificity
“Good job!” has become such an automatic response that it’s lost all meaning.
I catch myself doing it too. Emilia hands me a scribble, and my first instinct is to say “beautiful!” without even looking at it properly. But generic praise doesn’t actually build confidence because it doesn’t give children any real feedback about what they did well.
Confident kids know their actual strengths because their parents pointed them out specifically. “You worked on that puzzle for a long time without giving up” tells a child something valuable about their character. “You used so many different colors in your drawing” acknowledges their choice and creativity.
This kind of specific feedback helps children develop an internal sense of competence. They learn to evaluate their own efforts rather than constantly looking to adults for validation.
I’m trying to notice the actual effort, strategy, or improvement in what Emilia does. It takes more attention, but it makes my praise meaningful rather than background noise.
3. Shielding them from all disappointment and failure
A friend of mine recently told me she always lets her daughter win at games. Every single time. She can’t stand seeing her upset.
I understand the impulse, but here’s what worries me about that approach. Life will not let your child win every time. Jobs will reject them. Friends will sometimes choose other people. Projects will fail despite their best efforts.
If they’ve never experienced disappointment in a safe environment where you’re there to help them process it, how will they handle it when the stakes are higher?
When we play matching games or build towers together, I don’t artificially lose, but I also don’t gloat when I win. We talk about how it feels to lose and try again. We celebrate when she wins and talk about what strategies worked for her.
Resilience comes from bouncing back, not from never falling down. You can’t build that muscle if you’re never allowed to use it.
4. Comparing them to other children, even positively
“Why can’t you be more like your sister?” is obviously damaging. Most parents know not to say that.
But even positive comparisons create problems. “You’re so much better at reading than the other kids in your class” might sound like praise, but it ties a child’s worth to being better than others. What happens when they meet someone who’s better than them?
As Carol Dweck’s research on growth mindset at Stanford University shows, children who are praised for being “smart” or “talented” compared to others often develop a fixed mindset and become afraid of challenges that might reveal they’re not actually superior.
I try to keep my feedback about Emilia’s own progress. “You can recognize so many more words than you could last month” focuses on her growth rather than her standing relative to others.
Confidence built on being better than others is fragile. It crumbles the moment someone better comes along. Confidence built on personal growth and effort is solid because it’s entirely within their control.
5. Dismissing or minimizing their feelings
“You’re fine, it doesn’t hurt that much.” “Don’t cry, it’s not a big deal.” “You’re being too sensitive.”
These phrases might stop the tears in the moment, but they teach children that their emotional responses are wrong. That they can’t trust their own feelings. That they should suppress what they’re experiencing to make adults more comfortable.
How is a child supposed to develop confidence in themselves if they learn early that their internal experience is invalid?
When Emilia gets upset about something that seems small to me, I try to remember that her feelings are real even if the trigger seems minor. I acknowledge what she’s feeling before helping her move through it. “I see you’re really frustrated that the toy broke. That is disappointing.”
This doesn’t mean I let her wallow or throw tantrums endlessly. But I validate the feeling before addressing the behavior or helping her problem-solve.
Children who learn that their emotions are acceptable and manageable develop emotional confidence. They trust themselves and their reactions, which is the foundation for trusting their judgment in bigger situations later.
6. Making all their decisions for them
I see this constantly. “Do you want to wear the blue shirt or the red shirt?” “Blue.” “No, wear the red one, it matches better.”
Why ask if you’re going to override their choice anyway?
Decision-making is a skill that improves with practice. If children never get to make choices when the stakes are low, they won’t trust themselves to make choices when the stakes are high.
Obviously, you can’t let a toddler decide whether to go to the doctor or choose their own bedtime. But there are dozens of small decisions throughout the day where their input could matter. Which snack to have. Which book to read. Which shoes to wear.
With Emilia, I offer choices within boundaries. “We’re going to the playground. Do you want to bring your ball or your bubbles?” She gets to decide within a framework that works for everyone.
Sometimes she chooses what I consider the “wrong” option. She picks the toy that will bore her in five minutes or the snack she won’t finish. And you know what? She learns from those experiences more effectively than if I’d made all the choices for her.
Kids who make decisions, see the outcomes, and adjust accordingly develop confidence in their judgment. Kids who are told what to do constantly learn to look outside themselves for answers.
7. Constantly correcting and critiquing their efforts
There’s a difference between teaching and nitpicking.
When Emilia tries to put on her shoes and gets them on the wrong feet, I have a choice. I can immediately correct her, or I can let her walk around for a minute and notice for herself that something feels off.
I’m learning to give her space to notice her own mistakes before I point them out. Not always, especially if safety is involved. But when the stakes are low, letting her realize “oh, these feel weird” and fix it herself builds so much more confidence than me immediately jumping in with “wrong feet!”
Constant correction also makes children self-conscious and afraid to try new things. If every attempt is met with “not like that” or “here, let me show you the right way,” they learn it’s safer not to try at all.
I’m trying to let imperfection exist. Her drawing doesn’t need to stay inside the lines. Her tower doesn’t need to be structurally sound. Her dance moves don’t need to be graceful. She’s learning, exploring, building confidence in her ability to create and try and exist in the world without constant judgment.
Final thoughts
Raising confident kids means getting comfortable with discomfort. Theirs and yours.
You have to let them struggle when every instinct tells you to help. You have to watch them fail sometimes when you could have prevented it. You have to bite your tongue when they make choices you wouldn’t make.
But the alternative is raising children who constantly look outside themselves for validation, direction, and solutions. Who freeze when faced with challenges because they’ve never learned they can handle hard things.
I mess this up regularly. I jump in too quickly sometimes. I praise lazily. I make decisions I should let Emilia make because it’s faster or easier.
But I’m trying to remember that my goal isn’t to raise a child who never struggles. It’s to raise someone who trusts herself enough to handle whatever comes her way. That starts with me stepping back and letting her discover just how capable she actually is.
