Bravery

A Leadership Lesson From a Little Boy and One Big Shot

I didn’t expect today’s leadership lesson to come from a tiny hospital room and a five-year-old clutching a squeezable John Cena toy — but that’s parenthood for you. Leadership lessons sneak up on us when we’re not trying to teach anything at all.

Today was Aiden’s fourth monthly dermatologist shot for his severe eczema. At this point, he knows the drill: numbing cream, the drive to the hospital, the same room, the same needle that’s way bigger than it has any right to be. And still — every time — we walk in with hope that it’ll be easier than the month before.

On the way there, he kept saying, “I don’t like shots, but I have to do it anyway.”

Honestly? Same, kid.

But I reminded him why he does it: better sleep, healthier skin, fewer infections. He nodded. He understood. He just didn’t like it — and that’s fair.

Everything was fine… until it wasn’t.

As soon as the needle came out, Aiden melted down. Full tears. Fear in his voice. Breath racing. At one point he even said he needed time to calm down, and we tried — ice pack, pep talk, comforting hands from a senior nurse. Nothing worked.

In the end, it took me and two nurses gently holding him steady so the shot could be done safely. He screamed for one second — one heartbreaking second — and then it was over.

And here’s the part that floors me every time:

Two seconds later, he wiped his face, grabbed his squeezable wrestler, and smiled at the nurses like nothing happened. The resilience of kids is unreal.

On the drive home? Totally fine.
By bedtime? Aiden again.

So I told him I was proud of his bravery.

And he said something that stopped me:

“No, I’m not brave because I cried.”

Oof.
There it is — the belief so many of us carry silently into adulthood.

So I told him the truth as I see it — straight from the heart:

“Bravery isn’t about not crying. Bravery is doing the hard thing even whenyou’re scared, nervous, crying, or uncomfortable. You can cry and still be brave. You did something difficult anyway. That’s courage.”

He looked up at me and asked, “So crying is ok and still can be brave?”

“100%,” I said. “You were scared, but you did it anyway. That takes guts.”

And just like that, he lit up.
He got it.
And I hope he carries that with him long after shots stop being part of his routine.

Why I’m Writing This

Because adults forget this lesson.
Leaders forget this lesson.

We tie bravery to stoicism, to holding it together, to looking unbothered. But real bravery? The kind that shapes us? It almost always happens with shaky hands, racing hearts, and yes — sometimes tears.

Bravery is not the absence of fear.
Bravery is showing up through the fear.

Sometimes leadership is about giving a presentation. Sometimes it’s about having a hard conversation. And sometimes leadership is watching your kid do something that terrifies him, and helping him redefine courage for the rest of his life.

I don’t know if Aiden will remember this definition forever.
But I hope he at least remembers this:

Emotion is human.
Courage is action.
And tears don’t disqualify anyone from being brave.

Especially not a little boy with a big heart and an even bigger needle to face every month.