03/10 Chapter 452 Learning to lose
Yesterday we spent a little time at Noah and Sophia’s house. While you played with Sophia’s Barbies, I joined her, Noah, and Cheila for a card game — Uno.
Sophia won the first round fair and square, but Noah didn’t take it well. He got angry, started chasing her around, even tried to bite her. Then he sulked and said he’d only play again if she didn’t. And his mom agreed. Sophia didn’t seem to mind sitting out, but that's just plain wrong.
Children need to learn early that when you play a game, you have to accept both outcomes: sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. No one likes losing, but being a sore loser is far worse. I know he’s just a child, but if that kind of behavior isn’t corrected or explained, it only gets worse with time.
You’ve always been different. Your frustration usually comes from not being able to do something, rather than losing. Like when you can’t fit a puzzle piece just right, or when your block tower collapses, or when you try to put on your shoes and they won’t go on. Those are the things that upset you.
But we’ve played games together before and sometimes I won, sometimes your dad, and sometimes you. And every time, you were genuinely happy for whoever won.
Today I tried playing a Disney memory game with you. I took out several cards and left only a few — just the princesses — otherwise it would’ve been too many pieces, and memory games are already tricky enough on their own.
But every time you flipped the second card and it didn’t match, you got really upset and started to cry. I kept trying to explain that it was okay, that missing a pair was part of the game, that losing was normal.
I told you that in life, when we lose, we have two choices: we can keep trying, or we can give up and walk away. But crying doesn’t help. You were so frustrated that I decided to end the game and put it away.
Then you looked at me and said, with all the seriousness in the world, “This game is ugly. I don’t want to play anymore. It’s too hard.”
Oh, my sweet girl, every day you get a little smarter, and somehow even more adorable.
But losing is complicated. Still, I’ll try to guide you through it early on. In life, we’ll lose over and over again — in games and competitions, in challenges, in ideas, in debates, in friendships, in people. Losing is inevitable. What matters is learning how to handle it.
You can always choose to keep trying, which doesn’t mean you’ll necessarily succeed, but it teaches you persistence and resilience, or you can choose to walk away. And if you do, then let it go. Don’t dwell on it, don’t replay it in your head, don’t look back.
These days, I feel like people — especially the generations after mine — struggle so much with losing. It’s as if no one can accept not being the best anymore. Many games and competitions don’t even keep score now, just to avoid hurting anyone’s feelings. But that’s not how life works. Life doesn’t hand out participation trophies.
Losing teaches you to be humble. It builds character, teaches patience, and makes victory — when it comes — so much sweeter. It’s through losing that we grow, that we learn to clap for others, to recognize that our value isn’t tied to winning.
And if I can help you understand that from a young age — that it’s okay to fall, okay to fail, okay to lose — then I’ll feel I’ve done something right as your mother. Because the strength to rise again is worth far more than the satisfaction of always winning.
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