Chapter 12
Starting Late
What if you’ve been reactive for years? What if they’re already 12, or 15, or almost out the door? What if you’re reading this and thinking: “I wish I’d known this sooner”? Here’s the truth: The best time to start was ten years ago. The second best time is today.
Frederick Douglass didn’t learn to read until he was 12. He was enslaved. Literacy was illegal for him. He’d spent his entire childhood without access to books, letters, or education of any kind. Then, at 12, he began. Secretly. Slowly. Trading bread for lessons. Copying letters from ships. Practicing in stolen moments. By 20, he had escaped slavery. By 30, he was advising presidents. By 50, he was one of the most influential writers in America. He started late. He started anyway.
The myth of early childhood is that it’s the only window. Yes, early years matter. Yes, habits form young. Yes, it’s easier to shape clay than to reshape hardened concrete. But humans aren’t concrete. We’re adaptive. We change at every age. The brain remains plastic. Character keeps forming. It’s never truly too late. What changes is the approach – not the possibility.
At 52, Julia Child had never cooked professionally. She’d spent decades as a government employee. She didn’t attend culinary school until her late 30s. Her cookbook wasn’t published until she was nearly 50. Her TV show didn’t start until 51. She became the most famous chef in America after the age most people start planning retirement. Late starts aren’t handicaps. They’re just different starting points.
What changes when you start late
You have less time – so focus more. You can’t teach 50 things. Pick the 5-7 principles that matter most. Go deep instead of wide. Quality over quantity. A teenager who deeply understands three principles is better prepared than one who’s vaguely aware of thirty.
They’re more capable – so involve them. A 14-year-old isn’t a vessel to fill. They’re a person to collaborate with. Share the framework. Show them the checklist. Ask: “What skills do you wish you had? What do you want to learn before you leave?” Make them a partner, not just a student.
They’ll remember – so be honest. Young children forget the early years. Teenagers remember everything. If you’re changing your approach, name it. “I’ve been reactive. I want to be more intentional. Here’s what I’m trying to do.” Honesty builds trust. Trust enables teaching.
Andrew Carnegie immigrated to America at 13, desperately poor. His mother didn’t have a decade to slowly instill principles. She had urgency. Every conversation about “rising above” was compressed, intense, focused. Carnegie later credited that focused intensity. There was no time to waste on nice-to-haves. Every lesson had to count. Starting late creates focus. Use it.
The late-start playbook
Step 1: Forgive yourself. Guilt helps no one. You did the best you could with what you knew. Now you know more. Start fresh.
Step 2: Have the conversation. Tell them what you’re doing and why. Not a lecture – a conversation. “I’ve been thinking about what I want for you. Can we talk about it?”
Step 3: Find quick wins. Identify one skill they’re interested in. Create one moment this week. Get one small win together. Progress builds momentum. Start small, but start.
Step 4: Focus on principles, not skills. You may not have time to teach them to change a tire before they leave. But you can instill self-sufficiency as a principle they carry forward. Skills can be learned at any age. Principles take longer to root – but they transfer everywhere.
Step 5: Stay connected after they leave. The relationship doesn’t end at 18. Many of the most important lessons land in the 20s, when they’re facing real life and finally understand why you cared. Plant seeds now. They may bloom after they’ve moved out.
Harland Sanders started KFC at 65. He’d failed at dozens of careers. He’d been a farmhand, a streetcar conductor, a soldier, an insurance salesman, a tire salesman, a gas station operator. Nothing stuck. At 65, he started franchising his chicken recipe. At 74, he sold the company for millions. He became a global icon in his 70s and 80s. His story isn’t about chicken. It’s about starting late and starting anyway.
A note on guilt
If you’re feeling guilty about lost time, read this carefully: Guilt is backward-looking. It fixates on what you didn’t do. It changes nothing about the future. Intention is forward-looking. It focuses on what you will do. It changes everything. You cannot parent yesterday. You can only parent today. Every day is a new beginning. Every conversation is a fresh start. Every moment is a chance to be intentional. The past is fixed. The future isn’t written yet.
Here’s the final truth: It’s not about being a perfect parent. It’s about being an intentional one. Intentional parents make mistakes. They start late. They miss opportunities. They wish they’d known sooner. But they keep going. They adjust. They try again. Progress over perfection. That’s the whole philosophy – for your kids and for you. You’re not too late. You’re just beginning. Start today.