“But I Know Better”

The Eternal Ego Loop of Parental Wisdom

Introduction: A Lesson in Irony

Ah, parents. The bringers of life, the holders of family secrets, and the self-proclaimed sages of the household. It’s a universal truth that many parents, bless their hearts, believe they know their children better than the children know themselves—even as those children grow into adults with resumés, philosophies, tax returns, and perhaps therapy bills of their own.

Yet, here lies the delicious irony: parents will often work tirelessly to give their child an education—one that they themselves may have never received—only to scoff at the intellect they’ve helped cultivate. They’ll invest in tutors, schools, and maybe even cello lessons, then turn around and say, “You’ll understand when you’re older,” as if they didn’t just spend two decades preparing you to know things now.

You Have to Live It to Know It (Apparently)

One of the cornerstones of this contradiction is the belief that wisdom can only come through lived experience. You know—like owning a business, raising kids, or surviving a recession barefoot in the snow uphill.

According to many parents, you cannot possibly understand:

• How to run a business… unless you've run one (watching, working in, or studying dozens apparently doesn’t count).

• How to manage money… unless you’ve lived paycheck to paycheck, in exactly their town, during exactly their time, with their exact number of broken appliances.

• How to manage pain… unless you’ve been specifically assaulted and/or injured in the way they think pain matters.

It’s a logic loop that conveniently guards wisdom while simultaneously invalidating empathy, analysis, or just plain common sense.

Meanwhile, in the Real World...

The modern child—now an adult—is not the same as the parent was at their age. We’re not just talking about inflation or Instagram here. Today’s generation may carry a backpack full of invisible, unrelatable bricks:

• Growing up with a disability.

• Being a different race or culture than one or both parents.

• Having an absent parent.

• Navigating abuse, bullying, or systemic corruption within schools, courts, and/or the friendly neighborhood church.

In many cases, these children have walked through a fire their parents never even saw coming. And despite this, they may come out on the other side as insightful, resilient, resourceful, and yes, more informed than their parents about key life realities. But try telling Mom or Dad that, and you might as well try explaining TikTok to a potato.

Enter: The Infinite Ego Loop

Here’s how it typically plays out:

1. You express something insightful, perhaps even evidence-based.

2. Your parent rejects, deflects, denies, or plays the victim: “You think you know everything now?”

3. They mention your sibling’s success as proof of their superior parenting.

4. You point out that you are not your sibling and include the aforementioned invisible, unrelatable bricks.

5. They ignore this.

6. Repeat from step 1.

This dance is as old as the rotary phone. It thrives on three things: ego, nostalgia, and the desperate need to be right—even at the cost of truly seeing their child as an evolving, autonomous adult.

The Golden Child Trap

Often, parents will pedestal one child to make a point. “Your sister listened to me and look how she turned out!” Yes, maybe she did. Maybe she also had a completely different temperament, neurotype, set of experiences, or even parent (depending on family structure). But these variables get ignored in favor of the success=obedience formula.

What they don’t say is that the “golden child” may have suffered in silence, burned out, or achieved success despite the pressure—not because of it. And even if the child did thrive, that doesn’t make the parenting model universally applicable.

Breaking the Chain (Instead of Polishing It)

What’s particularly maddening is how often toxic behaviors are excused with a casual, “That’s just how I was raised,” as if inherited dysfunction is some artisanal craft passed down through generations like sourdough starter. Generational curses don’t always show up as dramatic traumas; sometimes they’re low-grade emotional allergies—like avoiding apologies, weaponizing silence, or reacting to every minor disagreement like it's a courtroom trial. And still, some parents defend these traditions with the fervor of someone guarding grandma’s 1974 meatloaf recipe—never mind that everyone gets indigestion.

Here’s the truth: just because something is tradition doesn’t mean it’s wisdom. Leech therapy was a tradition. So was lead-based paint.

The Blame Game Olympics

And when all else fails, many parents summon their ultimate escape clause: “Well, my parents did worse to me.” Ah yes—the emotional version of “back in my day, we walked fifteen miles in the snow, uphill, both ways, with trauma.” While it’s true that many of our parents were hurt by their parents (who were hurt by theirs, and so on until someone yelled at a caveman), the goal shouldn’t be to keep the chain intact—it should be to break it. If you know your childhood sucked, why gift-wrap it for your kid? That’s like getting hit by a car and deciding to become a reckless Uber driver in tribute. At some point, someone has to say: “Hey, maybe let’s not pass on the emotional baton covered in barbed wire.”

Feeding, Clothing, and Sheltering Are Not Trophies

Let’s get one thing straight: providing the basics is not a gold medal. It’s the absolute foundation of the parental contract. You don’t get a lifetime achievement award for doing the bare minimum. Yes, housing and feeding a child into adulthood can be hard, but it’s also literally the job. The child did not ask to be here. There was no application, no interview, no resumé. So, let’s not confuse caregiving with sainthood.

Imagine If They Had Just Listened

What might happen if parents, just once, said:

• “I didn’t know that.”

• “You’ve really been through something I haven’t.”

• “Maybe you’re right.”

The world might not stop spinning, but a family cycle might shift. A little space could open up for honesty, respect, maybe even healing. But that takes humility—and that, dear reader, is a taller mountain than Mount Ego.

Final Thoughts: Educating the Educators

There comes a point where some adult children must become the educators. Not because they are ungrateful. Not because they hate their parents. But because they see more clearly now—from a vantage point their parents never occupied.

This doesn’t make them arrogant. It makes them aware.

So, to all the parents out there still clinging to the illusion of eternal wisdom: take a seat. You did your best, and we see that. But now it’s your turn to learn. From us.

Yes, us—the ones you raised to be smarter than you, remember?

Because knowing better doesn’t always mean having lived longer. Sometimes, it just means having paid attention.