Sometimes the things our children apologize for tell us far more than the words themselves.
I didn't set out to become a children's book author.
I was a mother trying to help my kids navigate things I couldn't always protect them from.
And sometimes, the signs that something wasn't right weren't big, dramatic, or obvious.
Sometimes they were two little words.
“I'm sorry.”
My daughter was saying them constantly.
Sorry for asking a question.
Sorry for needing something.
Sorry for making a mistake.
Sorry when something went wrong, even when she had absolutely nothing to do with it.
Sorry for things that didn't require an apology at all.
At first glance, a child who apologizes frequently might seem like a child who's simply polite, thoughtful, or especially considerate of other people's feelings.
But I was seeing something different.
My daughter's constant apologizing wasn't just a habit. It was showing me something deeper.
And that concerned me.
Because I didn't want my daughter growing up believing that simply existing, having needs, or taking up space was something she needed to apologize for.
When “I'm Sorry” Becomes Something Other Than an Apology
There's absolutely nothing wrong with teaching children to apologize.
In fact, I think being able to recognize when we've hurt someone, take responsibility for our actions, and offer a sincere apology is an incredibly important life skill.
But there's a difference between apologizing because you've done something wrong and apologizing because you're afraid someone might be unhappy with you.
And that's the difference I was beginning to recognize in my daughter.
She wasn't just apologizing for mistakes.
She was apologizing for circumstances.
For other people's feelings.
For things she couldn't control.
For things that weren't her responsibility in the first place.
And I started wondering what was happening beneath the surface.
Was she learning that keeping everyone else happy was more important than being comfortable with herself?
Was she beginning to feel responsible for other people's reactions?
Was apologizing becoming a way to avoid conflict, disappointment, or disapproval?
I couldn't know exactly what she was thinking every time she said those words.
But I knew the pattern deserved attention.
Because children don't always have the words to explain the deeper things they're feeling.
Sometimes their behavior tells us that something needs a closer look.
People-Pleasing Can Look an Awful Lot Like Being a “Good Kid”
This is one of the things I think we need to talk about more.
We celebrate children for being agreeable.
For being helpful.
For not causing problems.
For being easygoing, considerate, and polite.
And those can all be wonderful qualities.
But what happens when a child becomes so focused on keeping everyone else comfortable that they stop considering their own comfort?
What happens when they learn to avoid disagreement at all costs?
When they feel guilty for having needs?
When they assume responsibility for emotions that don't belong to them?
Or when they start apologizing before they've even figured out whether they've done anything wrong?
People-pleasing can look like kindness from the outside while feeling like fear on the inside.
And that was the distinction I wanted my daughter to understand.
I didn't want her to stop caring about people.
I didn't want her to become less compassionate.
I didn't want her to stop recognizing when she'd made a mistake.
I wanted her to know that she could be kind without making herself responsible for everyone else's happiness.
That she could have needs without feeling guilty.
And that she could be a good person without apologizing for everything.
The Deeper Issue Needed a Gentle Approach
I wrote The Sorry Monster for my youngest daughter when she was 13.
By that point, our family had already been through a great deal.
And I understood that some lessons needed to be approached differently.
I could have sat my daughter down and had another serious conversation about people-pleasing, boundaries, and the importance of not taking responsibility for other people's emotions.
But sometimes, when children are already carrying heavy things, another heavy conversation isn't what they need.
Sometimes they need a little space from the seriousness of it all.
Sometimes they need to smile.
Sometimes they need to recognize themselves in a story without feeling like they're being analyzed, corrected, or told there's something wrong with them.
I wanted to address something serious without making my daughter feel like she was the problem.
Because she wasn't.
The problem wasn't that she was thoughtful or sensitive or cared about other people.
Those were beautiful qualities.
The problem was the possibility that she'd begun to believe she needed to apologize for things that weren't hers to carry.
And I wanted to help her put some of that weight down.
Gently.
With a little lightness to counter the heaviness underneath.
That's where The Sorry Monster came from.
Sometimes A Story Can Help Us Hear What Serious Conversations Can't
There's something powerful about giving a name to a part of ourselves that's taking over.
A monster who takes apologizing a little too far can help a child relate.
And while they're relating, they might also begin to recognize something else familiar.
Wait a minute. I do that.
I say sorry when I haven't done anything wrong.
I apologize when someone else is upset.
Maybe I don't have to.
That's the beauty of storytelling.
It allows children to explore an idea without feeling confronted by it.
Instead of saying, “You apologize too much,” I could create a character who made the pattern visible.
Instead of making the lesson about what my daughter was doing wrong, I could help her see that apologizing has a purpose—and that purpose isn't to make everyone else happy all the time.
The lightness was intentional. The message underneath it was anything but trivial.
I wanted the book to feel light.
Because the issue I was trying to address wasn't.
Children Shouldn't Have to Carry Responsibility for Everyone Else's Feelings
One of the most important things I wanted to communicate through The Sorry Monster is that we are responsible for our own actions.
But we are not responsible for every emotion someone else experiences.
That's a distinction many adults still struggle with.
Someone is disappointed.
That doesn't automatically mean you've done something wrong.
Someone is angry.
That doesn't automatically make you responsible for fixing it.
Someone doesn't like your decision.
That doesn't necessarily mean you owe them an apology.
Of course, we should care about how our choices affect others.
We should be willing to listen, reflect, and take responsibility when we've caused harm.
But caring about someone's feelings and being responsible for those feelings are not the same thing.
I wanted my daughter to understand that difference before it became a pattern she carried into adulthood.
Because a child who believes they're responsible for keeping everyone happy may grow into an adult who struggles to set boundaries, express needs, or make decisions without guilt.
And those patterns can be incredibly difficult to unlearn.
Why This Matters Even More for Children Navigating Difficult Family Dynamics
When children live with conflict, unpredictability, or emotionally abusive relationships, they may become especially attentive to the moods and reactions of the people around them.
They might learn to notice subtle changes in someone's tone.
To anticipate disappointment.
To avoid saying things that could lead to conflict.
Or to apologize quickly because it seems like the easiest way to restore peace.
Not every child who apologizes excessively is experiencing these circumstances, and frequent apologizing alone doesn't tell us exactly what's happening.
But it's worth being curious about what a child may be communicating.
Especially when the apologies seem disconnected from anything they've actually done.
As parents, we can't always control the environments our children enter.
We can't guarantee that every adult in their lives will respond appropriately to their feelings.
We can't protect them from every difficult interaction.
But we can teach them that someone else's mood isn't automatically their responsibility.
We can help them understand that they're allowed to make mistakes without believing they're bad.
That they're allowed to have needs.
That they're allowed to disagree respectfully.
And that their worth isn't measured by how happy they can keep everyone around them.
These are the lessons I wanted to give my daughter.
Not by telling her what to think about anyone else.
But by helping her understand herself.
Three Things I Hope Parents Teach Their Children About Apologizing
1. An apology should mean something.
When we apologize for everything, the words can lose their meaning.
Children deserve to understand that a sincere apology is about recognizing when we've made a mistake or caused harm, taking responsibility for it and then making a change.
It's not something we owe simply because another person is unhappy.
2. Having needs is not something to apologize for.
Children are allowed to ask questions.
They're allowed to need help.
They're allowed to take up space, have opinions, and express feelings.
We can teach them to do those things respectfully without making them feel guilty for doing them at all.
3. You can care about someone without carrying their emotions.
Compassion is a wonderful quality.
But compassion doesn't require a child to take responsibility for everything another person feels.
We can help children learn to be considerate while also recognizing where their responsibility ends.
One simple thing parents can do is gently ask, “What are you apologizing for?”
Not as a criticism.
As an invitation to think.
Sometimes that one question can help a child begin recognizing the difference between a genuine mistake and a feeling of unnecessary responsibility.
I Didn't Want to Change My Daughter's Heart
This is perhaps the most important part of why I wrote The Sorry Monster.
I wasn't trying to make my daughter less sensitive.
I wasn't trying to make her less thoughtful.
And I certainly wasn't trying to make her less kind.
I love those things about her.
I just didn't want those beautiful qualities to come at her own expense.
I wanted her to be able to care deeply about people without feeling responsible for their every emotion.
I wanted her to recognize her mistakes without making herself responsible for everyone else's.
I wanted her to be comfortable asking for what she needed.
And I wanted her to understand that she could be loved, valued, and worthy without constantly trying to earn that worth through apologies.
Because kindness should be something we give.
Not something we use to disappear.
A Children's Book With a Message That Grows With Them
One of the things I love about The Sorry Monster is that the message works on different levels.
A younger child might simply see a monster who transforms into a friend.
And in the process, they begin learning when an apology is appropriate and when it isn't.
An older child might recognize their own habit of apologizing for things they can't control.
A teenager might begin connecting the message to friendships, family relationships, peer pressure, and boundaries.
And an adult reading the book with a child might recognize something about themselves, too.
Because how many of us grew up believing that being a good person meant never disappointing anyone?
How many of us learned to apologize simply to end an argument?
How many of us still say sorry for things that aren't our fault?
These are children's books. But the lessons aren't childish.
They're lessons that can shape how we move through the world for the rest of our lives.
Why I Wrote The Sorry Monster
I wrote The Sorry Monster because I was watching my daughter apologize for things she didn't need to apologize for.
And I knew I was seeing more than a habit.
I was seeing a pattern that deserved attention, compassion, and care.
I didn't want to add more weight to something that already felt heavy.
I wanted to give her a way to recognize the pattern without feeling ashamed of it.
A way to laugh.
A way to think.
And hopefully, a way to begin putting down responsibilities that were never hers to carry.
I wanted her to know that she could be kind without being responsible for everyone.
That she could make mistakes without being defined by them.
That she could have needs without apologizing for them.
And that she never had to make herself smaller to make someone else comfortable.
That's why I wrote The Sorry Monster.
Because sometimes a little humor can open the door to a very important conversation.
And sometimes, the lightest stories carry the messages our children need most.
Discover The Sorry Monster
The Sorry Monster is a beautifully illustrated children's hardcover book that helps kids understand the difference between meaningful apologies and unnecessary people-pleasing.
Written for my youngest daughter, it uses humor and a gentle, memorable story to teach children that they can be kind, compassionate, and considerate without taking responsibility for everything and everyone around them.
It's a valuable lesson for any child, but can be especially meaningful for children navigating difficult relationships, high-conflict family dynamics, or the pressure to keep everyone happy.
Because being a good person doesn't mean apologizing for being yourself.
