My kids are well past the “cute” stage—they’re adults now. But when they were younger, I have to admit, they were pretty adorable! One of the most rewarding, albeit prideful, experiences of being their dad was the way people reacted to them in public. Almost every adult, when they see a young child, hopes for one of two things: that the child is engaging and respectful, or that they’re quiet and invisible. After all, children have an incredible capacity to bring chaos to any situation—but they also have the power to light up a room with their smiles and joy.
For my wife and me, a simple test helped us navigate public outings and life at home: if our kids were doing something that annoyed us, chances were it would annoy or disrupt others too. Our go-to strategies were correction, redirection, distraction, or, if necessary, removal. Like all kids, ours behaved when it suited them, but we found that consistent rewards and relevant consequences paved the way to raising generally well-behaved, well-liked, and happy-to-be-seen kids.
Parenting has always been hard, but taking well-behaved children out in public was a treat. Early on, my wife and I often noted a clear distinction between “at-home” behavior and “in-public” behavior. They learned to adapt to social norms and discovered the rewards of behaving appropriately in public from us and the public! It wasn’t always easy for them—exerting the right energy to maintain those standards often left them exhausted by the time we got home—but it was worth it.
Jordan Peterson’s Rule 5, Do not let your children do anything that makes you dislike them, offers parenting advice that feels rooted in common sense. It stands in stark contrast to many contemporary strategies that often prioritize avoiding conflict over instilling long-term values. What I appreciate most about Peterson’s approach is his focus on fostering the long-term success of children while respecting their dignity and individuality. As a parent, I’ve learned many of these lessons through trial and error, but hearing them articulated by someone outside my family has been both refreshing and reassuring.
What struck me most while reflecting on this chapter is how Peterson’s principles extend far beyond parenting. His intent is to help parents lay a strong foundation for their children and, by extension, for society. But these ideas resonate just as deeply in any context where growth, communication, and productivity matter—whether within a family, a team, or an organization. The dynamics of leadership, authority, and shared experience bring these principles into sharp focus.
The question, “Is this person doing something that makes me like them more or less?” is deceptively simple yet deeply revealing. It forces me to examine not only their behavior but also my own values, ambitions, and definitions of "good." These are the lenses through which I evaluate the actions of those around me. To assess fairly, I must acknowledge my biases and look at the bigger picture—our shared goals and the standards we uphold as a team.
This principle isn’t limited to parenting. It’s applicable to any relationship:
What could someone on my team do that would make me dislike them?
What could I do that might make someone I report to dislike me?
Conversely, what behaviors make me like someone more? What do my team members do that enhances my respect and appreciation for them?
Without too much introspection, I can think of several behaviors that drive me crazy:
Deception or lying
Frequent, unannounced absences from team meetings
A lack of productivity coupled with an unwillingness to learn
Refusing to help teammates or other teams
Producing poor-quality work
Excessive self-promotion
On the flip side, I love seeing:
High-quality, forward-thinking work
Voluntarily taking on challenges
Proactive problem-solving or ensuring problems are addressed
Active participation in team meetings
Helping and mentoring as a subject matter expert (SME)
Demonstrating a commitment to becoming an SME
Owning mistakes and working to resolve them
To be honest, some things that irritate me aren’t necessarily about the team’s needs—they reflect my own insecurities. If I want to be a good leader, teammate, employee, and person, I need to recognize these triggers, temper my reactions, and plan accordingly. For example, I hate feeling incompetent—especially when I am incompetent. Being aware of the "Dunning-Kruger Effect," I worry that I might be confidently perched atop Mt. Stupid, oblivious to my lack of knowledge.
This self-awareness came into focus when I started working at Vasion. I hesitated to ask questions in the "developers" Slack channel because I didn’t want to look foolish. Pride is a nasty thing. Thankfully, I had a revelation: the most senior, experienced, and well-respected developers were also the most frequent question-askers. They looked for answers on their own, but after diminishing returns, they posed questions for other developers to weigh in on. It’s no wonder they became top developers—they never stopped learning.
Whether I’m dealing with children, colleagues, or teammates, this principle reminds me that my responses shape not only their growth but also the integrity of our shared work. By setting fair, consistent standards, I can help foster dignity, productivity, and mutual respect—qualities that benefit everyone in the long run.
But this isn’t just about preserving the quality of the team or the work we’re doing now. When I address issues constructively, I’m helping the individual become a better, more integrated member of the team. Clear feedback helps them develop skills, improve their behavior, and gain a deeper understanding of their role within the group. These improvements not only make them more valuable to our current team but also prepare them to succeed in future teams or workplaces. By calling attention to areas where they can grow, I’m equipping them to be more desirable teammates, more capable employees, and ultimately more productive contributors.
A motivation for deciding which issues to address, and how, is to ask: How will addressing this positively impact their employability, their integration with the team, and their alignment with the organization’s goals? If the feedback I provide enhances their ability to work effectively with others, meet expectations, and grow within their role, then it’s worth addressing. This perspective helps shift the focus from personal frustration to their long-term benefit. It transforms potentially difficult conversations into genuine opportunities for development and integration, not a strategy for manipulation.
If I avoid addressing issues that bother me, I can’t be surprised when relationships deteriorate or team performance suffers. Allowing things to slide sends a message—not just about my expectations but about the value of what we’re doing. For instance, if I stay silent about subpar effort, I’m effectively endorsing mediocrity, which undermines our mission and standards. Worse, I miss the opportunity to help a teammate recognize their potential and rise to meet it.
By engaging with these challenges directly and thoughtfully—and keeping their growth and future success in mind—I’m not just improving the work we’re doing; I’m improving their ability to contribute meaningfully to this team, their next team, and the larger organization. That, ultimately, is what great leadership and teamwork are all about.
Addressing small issues before they snowball is not only about efficiency but about respect—respect for our collective time, energy, and goals. Whether in a family or a team, tolerating behaviors that erode trust, productivity, or morale is like planting seeds of discontent. Over time, they grow into a tangled mess that requires far more effort to unravel than addressing them early on would have taken.
But addressing these issues is not about being punitive or authoritarian. It’s about clarity, honesty, and care. Peterson emphasizes the importance of fairness and measured correction. If I don’t explain why a behavior is problematic or what the expectations are, I can’t expect someone to understand their role in the bigger picture—or how they’re falling short. This is true in parenting, where discipline without explanation breeds resentment, and it’s equally true in professional environments, where unclear expectations lead to frustration and disengagement--aka chaos!
Peterson’s principle also underscores the silent toll of inaction. If I allow something that frustrates me to go unaddressed, it festers. The longer it lingers, the more it distorts my perception of the person involved. Instead of seeing them as a teammate or a child learning and growing, I start seeing them as a source of my frustration. This shift damages relationships and creates unnecessary barriers to collaboration and trust.
But beyond the interpersonal cost, there’s a collective cost to inaction. Every unresolved issue is a missed opportunity to reinforce the standards and values that hold the group together. Every unspoken frustration is a potential crack in the foundation of trust and mutual respect. Speaking up isn’t easy, but it’s necessary to preserve and create what matters most.
Ultimately, Peterson’s rule isn’t about my happiness—it’s about building something better. In the context of parenting, it’s about raising children who are competent, confident, and capable of thriving in the world -- ultimately, for their benefit and the benefit of the future. We may not be family, but the concept applies in other areas of our world. In the context of a team, by addressing the issues of individuals, we're fostering a culture where people can do their best work, support one another, achieve more together than they could alone, and get closer to their full potential.
This shared future requires effort, communication, and a commitment to the principles that bind us. It requires looking beyond the discomfort of today’s tough conversations and focusing on the benefits they’ll bring tomorrow. By embracing these ideas, we can build not just stronger relationships, but stronger teams, families, and communities.
As Peterson writes, "It’s not that life will cease to be difficult—it won’t. But perhaps it will be better, and perhaps there will be less unnecessary suffering." Whether guiding children, leading a team, or collaborating with peers, we have the opportunity to create environments where people can flourish, and that’s a responsibility worth taking seriously. I really want to like you.