There’s a strange pressure in parenting to always have the answers. To be the rock, the guide, the all-knowing figure. But the truth is, I don’t have all the answers—and I’ve stopped pretending that I do.
When my child asks about life, or death, or fairness, or why people hurt each other, or what happens when we die—I don’t shut it down. I let the question land. I sit with it. And sometimes, I simply say, “I don’t know.”
Because not knowing isn’t weakness. It’s honesty. It shows my children that they’re allowed to be curious, to wonder, to explore big ideas without needing neat conclusions. It teaches them that uncertainty is part of being human. That asking questions is powerful—even when the answers are messy or missing.
I want my children to grow up unafraid of complexity. To know that truth isn’t always simple, and that real understanding takes time, compassion, and openness. If I lied to them or pretended to be certain just to feel in control, I’d rob them of the courage it takes to live fully awake in this world.
So when my child comes to me with big feelings or big questions, I welcome them. I say, “That’s a really good question.” I say, “What do you think?” I say, “Let’s figure it out together.” And I mean it.
Because I’m not raising followers. I’m raising thinkers. Explorers. People who know that it’s okay to not know—and to keep asking anyway.