If you want your kids to respect you when they are older stop clinging to these 8 selfish habits

The first time my son called me out, he was six. We were in the car, rain ticking softly on the windshield, the kind of afternoon that makes you want to curl up and scroll your phone instead of listen to another story about Minecraft. I had just snapped at him for interrupting a work message when he said, very quietly, “You care more about that thing than me.” The words rolled around the car like loose marbles. For a moment I wanted to defend myself, lecture him, remind him of everything I did for him. But beneath the sting, I heard something else: the future. The man he’d become one day, deciding how much space I’d get in his already crowded adult life. Would he take my calls? Would he visit? Would he respect me, not because he had to, but because he wanted to?

The Long Memory of Small People

Children are always paying attention, especially when we wish they weren’t. They remember the tiny patterns we think are invisible: the sigh before we help, the way our tone changes on the phone, the look in our eyes when they mess up. They remember who we were long after they’ve forgotten what we bought them.

We tell ourselves we’ll be closer “when they’re older,” when the schedules settle, when the tantrums stop, when they can finally understand what we’re dealing with. But closeness in the future is stitched from how we live now. Respect is not something you claim with age; it’s something you earn through a thousand small moments when nobody is watching—except your kids, who are always watching.

There are habits we cling to in the chaos of parenting that feel harmless, even necessary. Habits that protect our time, our comfort, our illusions of control. But those same habits can quietly teach our kids that their feelings don’t matter, that honesty is dangerous, that love comes with strings. Years later, when we’re craving their respect, we might discover we trained them to give us something else: distance.

If you want your kids to grow into adults who respect you—not just obey or tolerate you—start by loosening your grip on these eight selfish habits that sneak into everyday family life.

1. The Habit of Always Being Right

There’s a particular silence that falls over a child whose opinion has just been steamrolled. Maybe you’ve heard it: the quiet swallowing of words, the way their shoulders tighten, the quick blink to chase away the sting. It’s easy to miss, especially when you’re convinced you’re right—and often, you are. You’re older. You’ve seen more. You do know better about curfews and nutrition and why you don’t microwave foil.

But always having to be right is less about wisdom and more about control. It turns every disagreement into a small courtroom where you are judge, jury, and expert witness. Over time, kids learn a blunt lesson: my parent’s ego is more important than my truth.

Imagine your child at 25, sitting across a café table from you, coffee cooling between you. Will they be able to say, “Hey, I think you hurt me back then,” and trust you won’t turn it into a debate? If you’ve built a life on never backing down, they won’t try. They’ll just close that inner door and call it “keeping the peace.” Respect doesn’t grow in that kind of quiet. Fear can. Resentment definitely does.

Letting go of the need to be right doesn’t mean pretending you’re wrong. It means getting curious instead of defensive. It means occasionally saying, “You might see something I don’t. Tell me.” It means allowing your child the dignity of a different perspective, even when you still hold the boundary.

2. The Habit of Emotional Convenience

Parenthood is, in many ways, an exhausting act of emotional labor. But there’s a particular form of selfishness that sneaks in when we treat our children’s feelings as something to be managed for our comfort rather than honored for their reality.

When you say, “Stop crying, it’s not a big deal,” what you often mean is, “Your feelings are inconvenient for me right now.” When you tell a preteen to “get over it” because you’re tired of the drama, what they hear is, “My internal world is too much for the person who’s supposed to love me most.” So they start editing themselves, sanding off their sharp edges, hiding their hurt so you won’t roll your eyes or sigh.

Years pass. They grow up. You find yourself wondering why they don’t open up to you, why you only hear about the safe parts of their life, why their deepest struggles go to friends, partners, even therapists—anyone but you. They learned the lesson you taught: my emotions are acceptable only when they’re tidy.

Letting go of emotional convenience means allowing their feelings to be exactly as big, messy, and unreasonable as they are. It means sitting in the discomfort of a sobbing five-year-old or a raging fifteen-year-old without immediately trying to fix, minimize, or redirect. You don’t have to approve of every reaction to validate the feeling underneath it. Respect grows when kids realize: my parent can hold space for my whole self, not just the pretty parts.

3. The Habit of “Because I Said So” Power

There’s a certain satisfaction in ending an argument with, “Because I said so.” Door closed. Case dismissed. No further questions, your honor. Sometimes—when safety is on the line, when the stove is hot, when the road is busy—you do need instant obedience. But when “because I said so” becomes your go-to parenting tool, it shifts from authority into laziness.

In the short term, it works. Kids comply. Life moves faster. No need to explain the reasons, the risks, or the values behind your decision. In the long term, though, you’re raising a person who learns two corrosive beliefs: power doesn’t need to explain itself, and my understanding doesn’t matter.

Think about the adult relationship you want with your child. Do you want them to blindly accept what you say at 30 the way they did at 7? Or do you want thoughtful conversations, mutual influence, a relationship where they can challenge you kindly and you can change your mind without losing your footing?

Respect grows in the soil of explanation. “No, you can’t go to that party—and here’s why I’m concerned.” “We’re not buying that right now—let me show you our budget.” You’re not giving them the steering wheel; you’re just turning on the headlights so they can see the road with you. Over time, they won’t just follow your rules; they’ll start sharing your values, because you took the time to make those values visible.

4. The Habit of Performative Parenting

We live in the age of an audience. Every lunchbox can be a post, every family hike a story, every award a shared achievement. There’s nothing wrong with capturing memories. But there is a subtle, selfish tilt that appears when we start parenting for the camera more than for the child.

Kids feel this, even when they can’t name it. They notice when affection appears only when others are watching. They sense when the big birthday party isn’t really for them, but for your image as The Fun Parent. They pick up on the way your mood spikes with outside praise and slumps in its absence.

One day, your teenager will look back and ask: was I loved for who I was, or for the story I helped my parent tell about themselves?

Letting go of performative parenting is an internal shift. It’s the choice to cherish the off-camera moments just as fiercely: the quiet car rides, the ugly meltdowns, the nights when nothing is shareable and everything is real. It’s resisting the urge to turn their achievements into proof of your worth, and instead letting them belong fully to your child. Respect flows most easily toward the adults who see us clearly and love us privately, not just publicly.

5. The Habit of “I Sacrificed Everything for You”

This one often hides under love. Parents do sacrifice—sleep, money, dreams, time, parts of themselves that will never fully grow back. That’s real. But when sacrifice becomes a story we retell our children as emotional currency, it turns something sacred into a bill they’re expected to pay forever.

“After everything I’ve done for you” sounds, to a child, like a chain clinking into place. Gratitude curdles into guilt. Your investments in them stop feeling like gifts and start feeling like debts they can never clear. It shows up years later when they’re afraid to say no to you, when they stay in unhealthy proximity out of obligation, when their life choices bend under the weight of your unspoken tally sheet.

Here’s the irony: the more you remind your kids of your sacrifices, the less freely they’ll offer you true respect. What you’ll get instead is appeasement, politeness, transactional care: “I owe them visits, I owe them calls.” Respect, the kind that warms a room when you walk in, cannot be extorted. It grows when children sense that your love doesn’t demand payback.

Letting go of this habit doesn’t mean pretending you haven’t given a lot. It means choosing where you speak that story. Share your struggles with friends, journals, therapists, partners—places where your pain can be honored without becoming your child’s burden. With your kids, let your sacrifices be the quiet scaffolding that allowed them to build their own life, not the spotlight that keeps pulling them back to center stage for one more bow.

6. Eight Habits That Erode Future Respect

Here is a closer look at these selfish patterns, and what they silently teach your kids over time:

Selfish Habit	What Your Child Learns
Always needing to be right	“My voice doesn’t matter; love means being overruled.”
Dismissing their feelings	“My emotions are too much; I should hide what I feel.”
“Because I said so” as a default	“Power doesn’t have to be fair or explain itself.”
Parenting for appearances	“I’m valuable when I make you look good.”
Keeping score with sacrifice	“Love is a debt I can never repay.”
Never apologizing	“Admitting wrong is weakness; I should hide my mistakes.”
Controlling their choices	“My life belongs to you; my desires are secondary.”
Using guilt to get compliance	“Your feelings matter more than my boundaries.”

You don’t have to tackle all of these at once. But noticing where you frequently land is the first act of courage. Maybe you see yourself in the need to always be right, or in the quiet use of guilt when your teenager doesn’t call. Awareness is the doorway to a different legacy.

7. Choosing the Relationship You’ll Have Later, Now

Picture an ordinary day twenty years from today. Maybe you’re older, a little slower. Your child—now very much an adult—is juggling their own job, their own home, perhaps their own messy, beautiful kids. Your name lights up on their phone.

What happens next is being written now.

Do they feel a tug of warmth, a sense that talking to you will leave them more grounded than before? Or do they feel that familiar tightness in their chest, that old fear of judgment, the dull obligation of being the “good child” who calls even when they don’t want to?

Respect in that moment is not about whether they remember the rules you set, or the sacrifices you made, or the trophies you clapped for. It’s about the emotional climate you created while they were small and you were tired and everything felt urgent. It’s about whether they felt consistently seen, heard, and safe in your presence—even when you disagreed, even when they stumbled.

Letting go of selfish habits in parenting is not about becoming perfect. You will still snap. You will still say things you wish you could drag back into your mouth. You will still protect your boundaries, have your own needs, and sometimes choose your sanity over one more conversation. That’s human.

The shift is simpler and deeper: moving from “How do I get my child to behave right now?” to “What kind of relationship am I building with the future adult in front of me?” When that question guides you, pride becomes a little easier to set down. Apologies become more natural. Explanations replace decrees. Your phone slips a little more quietly into your pocket when they start a story you’ve already heard.

And one rainy afternoon years from now, your grown child may say something you won’t forget: “I always felt like I could be myself with you.” That sentence is another way of saying, “I respect you.” Not because you demanded it. Because you showed them, again and again, what respect looks like when someone is small, loud, emotional, confused—and deeply, imperfectly loved.

FAQ

How do I start changing these habits without confusing my kids?

Be honest and simple. You can say, “I’ve noticed I’ve been doing a lot of ‘because I said so’ lately. I’m going to try to explain more, even if the answer is still no.” Kids adapt quickly when they see consistency between your words and actions.

Is it wrong to expect my kids to respect me just because I’m their parent?

You deserve basic courtesy and safety—that’s non-negotiable. But deep, lasting respect can’t be demanded; it grows from how you treat them over time. Authority can be given by a role; respect is earned in relationship.

What if I grew up with parents who did all of these things?

Then you’re already doing something different by noticing. You don’t have to have had a healthy model to start becoming one. Go slowly, seek support if you can, and allow yourself to make repairs when you slip into old patterns.

How important is it to apologize to my child?

It’s crucial. Apologizing doesn’t weaken your authority; it strengthens your credibility. It shows your child that power and humility can coexist, and it makes it safer for them to admit their own mistakes.

Can I still set firm boundaries and not be a selfish parent?

Absolutely. Boundaries are not selfish; they’re essential. The difference lies in how you hold them—explaining when possible, listening to their perspective, and refusing to use guilt, shame, or power trips as tools to enforce them. Firm and kind can live in the same sentence.