Letting Go of Perfect: Helping My Son—and Myself—Learn to Lose Gracefully
Parenting is a mirror.
Every challenge our children face reflects on us, often exposing lessons we are still learning.
Recently, my six-year-old son has been struggling with something that feels huge in his world: losing.
Whether it's a school race, a classroom contest, or a simple game, he has big feelings when he doesn't place at the top. He cries, he frustrates, and he has full-blown meltdowns. His little heart hurts so much that it spills out in tears and anger.
At first, it broke my heart to see him so crushed.
But I realized this was not just about winning.
This was about expectations—and the deep, painful belief that anything short of "perfect" was not good enough.
We sat down together, across from each other, and we talked–not just once, not just twice, but many times.
I told him something that I realized I needed to hear, too:
"Perfection does not exist. Perfection is only in God."
No matter how hard we try or how much we want it, being perfect is not the goal of being human, since it is not even possible.
That may be precisely how it is supposed to be.
We discussed how winning feels fantastic, and there's no shame in embracing that feeling.
It is terrific to succeed. It is wonderful to be celebrated.
But everyone loves to win.
The actual test of character is how we handle losing.
We explored the idea of losing gracefully:
Being genuinely happy for others when they succeed.
Looking at each experience to see what we can improve.
Understanding that falling short does not mean we are failures.
Trying again, even when it is hard.
Starting fresh each day, each time.
Because that is the thing about life:
Every single day is a new opportunity.
Since my son loves animals—especially gorillas—we used his interests to teach this lesson.
We sat and watched a movie together where gorillas showed different characteristics. I went ‘old school’ and watched Congo with him.
Through the eyes of his favorite creatures, we discussed what it means to survive, adapt, and grow, as well as the difference between the ‘good gorillas’ and the ‘bad gorillas’. [Watch the movie to understand more, or read the book.]
The ‘good gorillas’ were able to communicate, draw boundaries, and coexist with their families.
The ‘bad gorillas’ with aggressive behavior, unchecked aggression, met an unfavorable end.
Too much? If so, then don’t use this method for your kid(s). For now, it worked as we were able to discuss the fact that big feelings are okay, but specific actions are not. They were discussed in detail.
We talked about how even the bravest gorillas (in the movie, Amy) sometimes fall. They do not give up.
They do not expect to be perfect.
They keep going. They learn. (Eventually, after trying, she was accepted into a troop of gorillas.)
And just like them, being human is a messy affair.
It is supposed to be messy.
We are learning, stretching, and growing every single day.
That is the beauty of it.
The lesson my son and I are learning together is simple but profound:
Each day is a gift, allowing us to try again.
Every "failure" is a lesson, not a final judgment.
I watch him process these lessons in his small but mighty way.
In the future, I hope:
He still struggles when he doesn't win, but there is now a noticeable shift.
He pauses.
He breathes.
He remembers the gorillas.
He remembers that each loss is not the end.
It is just one step in a long, beautiful journey of becoming.
And quietly, in teaching my son to let go of perfection,
I realize—
I am learning to let go, too.