FAFO

When I stumbled across the Wall Street Journal article, Goodbye Gentle Parenting—Hello “F** Around and Find Out,” my heart did a little fist pump. Could it be? Are we finally ready to admit that maybe gentle parenting, at least as it’s been practiced, isn't boding so well?

Worried it was just a one-off take, I googled “FAFO parenting.” That’s when the dance party broke out. The Independent, Today, Parents Magazine, and HuffPost had all weighed in. Reddit was in full-blown smackdown mode, gentle parenters vs FAFO parenters. Substack was humming. This wasn’t just a ripple; it was a wave.

Maybe it’s my Gen X roots, or maybe it’s my love of common sense, but I’m glad this train has finally pulled into the station.

But here’s the thing: I’m not really here to debate parenting styles. Parenting is just the doorway. What I want to talk about is FAFO as a learning style. Because at its core, FAFO is the blueprint for how humans figure out cause and effect.

Take the classic: “Don’t touch the stove, it’s hot.” If you find me credible and you value your hand, maybe you’ll listen. If not? No worries, you’ll learn the natural way.

Let’s be honest: we prefer to learn the natural way, we're not particularly good at taking advice. We tend to learn best through lived experience. Touch the stove, burn the hand. Skip the coat, get cold. Blow past the speed limit, get the ticket.

Our behavior isn’t shaped by lectures and advice. It’s shaped by bumping (or sometimes smacking) into the edges of reality.

Take my four-year-old nephew. My brother and sister-in-law told him a hundred times to stop picking his nose. Nothing. Then kindergarten happened. The other kids laughed, and suddenly, nose picking was over. Why? Because the social sting of embarrassment taught him faster and louder than any adult lecture ever could.

Now here’s where we're tempted to interrupt that process. Same kid, same classroom. The teacher hears the giggles and steps in with a gentle voice: “I see we’re having some big feelings about boogers. It’s okay to feel silly, but our words should make others feel safe.”  Translation? Lesson canceled. My nephew misses out on learning the social rules of picking your nose in public and he also misses out on learning how to deal with embarrassment.

It feels protective in the moment, but it robs him from what he needs most.

Somewhere along the line, we started treating discomfort like trauma. But they’re not the same. Discomfort is feedback: your brain and body saying, “Don’t do that again.” Trauma is overload: an experience too big to process in the moment. Confusing the two means bubble-wrapping ourselves from the very friction that builds resilience.

Which brings me back to FAFO. It isn’t good or bad, it just is. Reality is the best teacher, sometimes the hardest, but always the clearest.

So here’s my plea: stop bubble-wrapping. Let kids, teens, and adults alike stumble, misstep, and cringe. Because that’s not cruelty. That’s growth. And if survival of the fittest still applies, then for the love of evolution, don’t short-wire us in the fitness department.