Kids with courage

On Risk, Courage, and Saying “Be Careful”

Recently we were asked to speak to a large corporate organisation about risk—specifically, how to build a healthy approach to risk into their culture. They invited us because they’d noticed something troubling: people across the organisation had become paralysed at the very thought of taking any kind of risk.

The opening line was simple: 'we’ve villainised the word “risk.” We’ve turned it into a weapon in the hands of those who fear adventure. Yet a culture obsessed with safety can be just as dangerous as one addicted to recklessness. Both lead to poor, reactive decisions.'

At least that got their attention.

But it also got us thinking about the countless children we've seen who are similarly paralysed—not because they’re taking big risks, but because they’re afraid to take any at all.

In our home, we have a number of family values and just a couple of rules. One of them, which we try (not always perfectly) to keep, is this: we don’t say “be careful” to our kids. People often look shocked when they hear that. “Don’t you care?” they ask. We care deeply—that’s exactly why we stopped saying it.

We noticed that whenever we said “be careful,” our kids would instantly:

• Freeze, unable to decide what to do next

• Step back instead of moving forward thoughtfully

• Mirror our anxiety and avoid new experiences

• And worst of all—they stopped making mistakes

We realised we weren’t protecting them; we were teaching caution over courage. We were quietly training curiosity, bravery, and adventure out of them. If our children can only move forward when everything is safe, certain, and settled, then how will they ever learn to take initiative, explore, or trust their instincts?

It’s not that we want our kids to fail for failure’s sake. It’s that we want them to learn — and learn through discovery, play, missteps, and problem-solving. Mistakes are part of how wisdom grows.

When we talk with other parents, we often hear: “We just don’t want our kids to get things wrong.” We understand that impulse. But it misses something better. We don’t want kids to get things wrong either—but more than that, we want them to get things right. And the only way to do that is to try. If they stumble along the way, we can handle that. Our goal isn’t to protect our children from the world, but to prepare them to be useful in it.

Spotify has a tradition we love. They host what they call a “fail-fika”—a coffee break where leaders and teams "celebrate" failure. Not because failure is wonderful, but because trying, learning, and daring are. They remind each other that failure is rarely final or fatal.

Of course, we don’t let our kids do just anything. There are moments when we grab them by the collar—seatbelts matter, and jumping off moving trains is still a bad idea.

A friend once put it perfectly: “Is it a bus moment or an umbrella moment?” If it’s about walking into the rain without an umbrella, let them go—they’ll get wet, and they’ll learn. But if it’s about walking in front of a bus, you stop them. And when you start to see the world that way, you realise: most of life’s risks are umbrella moments.