As parents, we always think that we have to do all the teaching of lessons for our kids. After all, we are the grown ups. We have the experience and wisdom. How many lectures  do we need to give our children until they take in and understand our wisdom? A long  time ago I learned that some lectures are better off not given at all. I am an avid Boston  Red Sox fan. My son has inherited my love of baseball. And his love of the game and of  one of its stars provided the opportunity for an important lesson for him and me. Here’s  my story.

Ten years ago, when he was eight, I took him to a Red Sox game. For days before the  game he asked me whether we would get autographs. We were planning to go to the  game after my workday, so I told him repeatedly that we would be getting there late and  would get nowhere near any players.

We got a late start that evening since I got home from work later than expected. We  raced out the door and headed to the train. He was jumping out of his shoes with  excitement.

I knew we were late and felt the pressure of maneuvering the two of us from  our train to the “T”. We got seats on train and started moving towards North Station.  I knew we had to change to the “T” so I was anxiously watching our movement toward  North Station. My son tapped me on the arm.

“Look Dad, I brought my favorite card.”  It was a Nomar Garciaparra rookie card (then worth five dollars according to his baseball card books and now not worth a dime). At that time, Nomar’s card was special to my son.  “Do you think we can get him to sign it?”, he asked me.

At this point, I thought to myself, first, we are late and we would never get anywhere close to Nomar. Second, the chance of him losing the card was 50/50. I initially felt like saying, “Why did you bring that? It is your special card. You’re going to lose it. And what were you thinking? We won’t get near Nomar.” But I had been reading some  parenting books, like a good pediatrician. And I had recently learned about experience  being a good teacher. So I held back.

“I don’t know if we’ll get close enough, but we can see.”

I didn’t react. I didn’t lecture. I just kept his hope alive and I hoped he wouldn’t lose the  card. I did not offer to hold it for him. It was his responsibility.

We arrived at our station and we carved our way through the crowd and out of the train  station. No sooner did we sit down on the next train than I heard a dreadful “Uh-oh,” and  my heart sank.

“What is it?” I said.

“Dad…Do you have my Nomar card?”

“No, pal. You didn’t give it to me,” I replied.

“Why? You can’t find it?”

“No,” as he looked frantically around the seats.

“Quick dad, can we go back to the last train and see if I left it on the seat?”

“No, pal. I’m sorry, that train is long gone.”

“My Nomar card…I lost it,” and with that he started to cry (and I almost did, too).

I held him and let him cry. I didn’t say I would replace it. I just let him cry. I said I was  sorry that he lost it and that I understood how it hurt. After a while he asked me whether I had ever lost anything of value. I reassured him that I had and that everyone has. But it was so hard to see him so heartbroken over his lost card.

Later after the game when we were home and I was tucking him in bed he told me “Dad, thanks for not being mad at me for losing my card. It made me feel better to know that  you lost something too.” This was a “Father Knows Best” moment for both of us, but  what he doesn’t know is the pain I went through to have it. It was hard to let him have  this lesson about caring for his things, and sorrow over losses. However I knew at heart  that these were important lessons.

I realize that many parents try to avoid having their children experience  disappointment and loss. But I wish more parents could allow their children some of  these experiences in life and not fear our role as parent to just be there to support them.  We don’t have to fix every break or replace every loss. We don’t have to lecture to teach  these lessons. In fact, lectures won’t work. You see, some of our children’s most  important lessons won’t be taught by us, it will be experienced by them. We just need to  be wise enough to support them through it.