There is something I didn’t expect when I became a father.
Not the sleepless nights. Not the worries. Not even the responsibility.
It was this—how hard it can be to say, “I was wrong.”
We talk a lot about teaching our children.
We want them to be kind, responsible, honest.
We want them to listen, to learn, to grow.
But sometimes, in the middle of all that… we forget something simple.
They are watching us more than they are listening to us.
My son and I argue sometimes.
Especially about studying.
There are days when he doesn’t want to sit down, doesn’t want to focus, doesn’t want to try.
And I… I react.
I raise my voice.
I push too much.
I say more than I should.
In that moment, it feels like I’m doing the right thing. Like I’m being a “good parent.”
Strict. Responsible. In control.
But later… when everything is quiet again, I can feel it.
I went too far.
Not because I corrected him—but because of how I did it.
And this is the moment that matters most.
Not the argument.
Not the mistake.
But what comes after.
I go to him and I say something simple:
“I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
No “but.”
No explanation.
No shifting the blame back to him.
Just those words.
And every time, I feel how powerful they are.
Because the truth is… apologizing to your child is not weakness.
It is one of the strongest things you can do as a parent.
We grow up believing that authority means being right all the time.
That if we admit a mistake, we lose respect.
But I’m starting to believe the opposite is true.
When we apologize, we don’t lose respect.
We build trust.
When I say “I’m sorry” to my son, I’m not just fixing a moment.
I’m showing him something much bigger.
I’m showing him that adults make mistakes too.
That being strong doesn’t mean being perfect.
That taking responsibility matters more than being right.
And maybe most importantly…
That relationships can be repaired.
There is something else I’ve learned.
Children don’t need perfect parents.
They need real ones.
They need to see what it looks like to mess up… and then make it right.
Because one day, they will be in the same position.
They will say something they regret.
They will hurt someone they love.
And in that moment, they won’t remember our lectures.
They will remember our example.
I also realized something difficult.
Sometimes, when we say “Sorry, but…”
we are not really apologizing.
We are explaining.
We are justifying.
We are protecting our ego.
But a real apology is simple.
It doesn’t defend.
It doesn’t argue.
It just takes responsibility.
And something beautiful happens when you do that.
The tension softens.
The distance disappears.
You can almost feel the connection come back.
Not because you were perfect.
But because you were honest.
I’m not a perfect father.
I still raise my voice sometimes.
I still get frustrated.
I still make mistakes.
But I’m learning this:
What matters most is not avoiding every mistake.
It’s what we do after.
So if you ever feel like you went too far…
if your words came out sharper than you intended…
Go back.
Sit next to your child.
And say it.
“I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
Not because you have to.
But because they need to see it.
And maybe… we need to learn it too.
GK
Georgi Kisyov – Reflections & Books 
Being a parent is a huge responsibility and unfortunately, as with other life matters, we learn mostly from our mistakes. Your post addresses that so clearly. Thank you for sharing it
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Thank you so much. I’ve come to believe that mistakes are part of the journey—what matters most is recognizing them and finding our way back with honesty and love.
GK
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I never heard those words growing up and I unfortunately repeated history with my own family because I couldn’t break that cycle and wished I had. Respect to you for sharing your parenting skills and values.
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Thank you for sharing this so honestly. I truly believe it’s never too late to change the pattern—even small moments of awareness can begin something new. And the fact that you see it already says so much.
GK
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Very well said.
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Thank you so much. Appreciate it. Have a wonderful day.
GK
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You are welcome. You also have a wonderful day.
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It’s easy to think that being a strong parent means holding the line no matter what, but you’ve uncovered something better—strength that bends, pauses, and comes back to make things right. That kind of humility doesn’t weaken authority; it refines it.
Children learn more from what they see lived out than what they’re told. An apology, especially one without a “but,” becomes a living lesson in responsibility, grace, and restoration. That kind of heart posture leaves a lasting imprint.
And that example you’re setting? It’s something your son will carry far beyond childhood, into every relationship he builds. It’s the kind of strength that shapes not just behavior, but character.
God bless you for your wisdom and willingness to pass it on Georgi!
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Thank you so much for this beautiful reflection. You captured it perfectly—real strength is not in holding the line at all costs, but in knowing when to pause and make things right. I truly hope these small moments stay with him and shape the way he connects with others one day. Your words mean a lot to me.
GK
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It’s good to have this early in your son’s life 🥰 I grew up in a family that could never admit wrongdoing or that they didn’t know something. It was a difficult habit to break, but I managed to figure it out, slowly but surely. My daughter is now 27 and still has to call me out and remind me to apologize once in a while. It’s a lifelong process dad!
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Thank you for sharing this—it really resonates. You’re so right, it’s a lifelong process… and the fact that you’re still open to learning, even from your daughter, says so much. That kind of honesty keeps the bond strong.
GK
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“When we apologize, we don’t lose respect.
We build trust.”
Our country is in dire need of this perspective. Trust means honest listening to one another. This is the only way to reduce reactivity, hostility and hatred. TRUST. thanks
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Thank you for this perspective. You’re so right—trust begins with honesty and the willingness to truly listen to one another. Even small moments of accountability can ripple outward in ways we don’t always see. I appreciate your words.
GK
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so true. “I’m sorry” are such difficult words to say, but you’re right. Our children, regardless of their age, need to see our vulnerability too.
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So true… those words can be hard, but they carry so much meaning. And you’re right—our vulnerability shows them something real, something they can trust. Thank you for this
GK
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By saying Sorry to our kids,we are teaching them that mistakes are mistakes,not to be hidden but to be acknowledged
Nice post,Georgi
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Thank you. I truly believe that—when we bring mistakes into the open, they become lessons instead of something to hide. I appreciate your words.
GK
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Im touched beyond words. I’ve lived with the opposite, always.
I never had an issue with saying im sorry for apologizing when i was wrong. I didn’t realize it was as valuable as it was until I saw a look in my son’s eyes that showed respect love appreciation. It was just how it b should be, to me.
Once upon a time a young visitor made an observstion and i disagreed. Later i realized shed been right so i phoned, her mom perplexed handed the phone to her daughter…i apologized directly stated what id overlooked and that shed been absolutely correct. Later her mother called. I decided to explain and she said she’d seen an amazing look in her daughters face that stopped her short. She had to know what had prompted that amazing look that said so much.
im explaining this because there are many who allow ego or pride to direct their actions… but it touches my heart when an honorable man can do so knowing the value of his words and avtions. I think when your son is grown, he’ll remember those momentsl your actions and hiow it made him feel worthy heard understood.
ty for being humble gracious and generous enough to share something do touching moving and personal. Greatly appreciated. Big hugs.
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Thank you… truly. This touched me deeply.
What you shared about that moment—calling back and apologizing—says so much about who you are. That look in her eyes… that’s exactly it. Those are the moments that stay with people for a lifetime.
You’re so right—when we put ego aside, something real happens. People feel seen, respected, valued. And that’s a gift.
I really appreciate you sharing this so openly. Big hugs back to you.
GK
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So much truth and wisdom here.
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Thank you so much. Means a lot. Have a beautiful evening.
GK
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Georgi, I became spellbound reading this piece. It carried me back to a night I came home late. A friend had dropped me off at the gate, then sped back toward the highway. Our house sat a mile up the paved lane, and my father, lying in bed with the window open, heard the noise and became convinced I had taken his pickup truck out racing with my friend.
The truth was far less dramatic. I had walked from the gate to the house and was quietly unlocking the door when he confronted me in anger. I told him what had happened and even asked him to go feel the hood of the truck—its engine would be cold, and there would still be mist on the windshield. He refused to check. He kept accusing me, over and over, until he drew back his fist and I braced for the blow. I finally said, “I don’t even have the keys to the truck—you do.”
Something in that must have reached him. He lowered his hand, told me to go to bed, and said to stop lying. After that, it was never mentioned again.
I have thought of that night many times over the years. I wish I had sat down with him before he passed and cleared the air. To this day, I still do not know how he came to believe I could be racing his truck on a one-lane road with my buddy. Some moments stay with us not because of what happened, but because they were never fully resolved.
It is important that those with children never allow something like this to happen. It haunted me for many years—knowing I was innocent, yet never understanding how my father came to that conclusion. We were always very close, and we remained so. Even so, that moment stayed with me in silence, resurfacing whenever issues of trust arose between us later in life.
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Thank you for trusting me with this… I felt every part of your story.
Moments like that don’t stay because of the event itself, but because they were left open—without that small bridge of understanding that could have brought peace. What you described… that silence after, can echo for years.
And that’s exactly why this matters so much to me. Not because I want to be a perfect parent—but because I don’t want those quiet, unresolved moments to stay between us.
Your story is a powerful reminder of how deeply these things can shape us, even in loving relationships. I truly appreciate you sharing it—it adds so much depth to this conversation.
GK
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“Not because you were perfect. But because you were honest.
I’m not a perfect father.” And “What matters most is not avoiding every mistake. It’s what we do after.”
Yep, none of us are perfect, you’ve laid this out well! I wish I could say it gets easier as they go through these next years, but it doesn’t. For the parents or the children. Keep it honest, and know there’s something about that 10 – 25 (give or take) period that is the best and hardest part. You won’t get it right, but then neither will he. One day though, usually when they have kids, they will understand somewhat. And go down that same path cause that is what we do in the cycle of life.
Hang on, tight and loose! ~ Rosie
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Thank you, Rosie… this means a lot. I really appreciate your honesty—“tight and loose” is such a perfect way to describe it.
It helps to hear from someone who’s walked that path, especially knowing it doesn’t get easier, just different. I’ll hold onto that… and keep choosing honesty along the way. 💛
GK
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