**Ingratitude of Children Toward Their Parents**
Ingratitude is one of the ugliest human vices, yet so common we barely notice how it poisons life. It cuts deepest when it appears between children and parents—those who gave everything for their happiness. This curse is as old as time, passed down through generations like a shadow. Why do grown children forget their parents’ sacrifices? Why do they brush aside the ones who raised them? Can this be fought, or is ingratitude just part of human nature?
Parents give everything: sleepless nights rocking them, the last pounds spent on shoes for them instead of themselves, years of worry to provide an education, a roof, hope. A mother working two jobs so her daughter can attend university. A father skipping holidays so his son can play football. These sacrifices seem natural while the child is young—but what happens when they grow up? Too often, parents get indifference, complaints, even dismissal in return.
I remember a woman who told me her son left for London after uni. She’d scrimped for years to pay his fees, denying herself everything. Now he calls once a month, muttering, “Mum, busy, talk later.” She doesn’t ask for much—just to hear his voice, to know he appreciates her. But he’s forgotten how she queued for discounted groceries so he’d never go hungry. That’s ingratitude: not malice, but cold neglect, sharper than words.
Why does this happen? Partly, it’s human nature. Children crave independence, desperate to prove they don’t need help. In doing so, they push parents away, seeing care as a burden. “I can do it myself!” shouts a teen; years later, it becomes, “I don’t need your advice.” Society fans the flames, glorifying self-made success. Chasing careers and status, children forget who paved their way. Parents become background noise, unneeded once the spotlight’s on them.
Another reason lies in upbringing. Sometimes, parents give so much, they forget to teach gratitude. If a child’s every whim is granted, they see it as their due. I knew a lad whose father bought him a used car for work. Instead of thanks, he scoffed, “Could’ve got a better one!” His dad stayed silent, but his eyes held pain. Was it his fault for not teaching gratitude? Or is this just human nature winning out?
Ingratitude wounds parents but harms children too. Those who can’t be thankful lose their roots, their lifeline. They grow lonely—because ingratitude isn’t just about parents, but how they treat the world. Today, it’s ignoring Mum’s home-cooked meals; tomorrow, a friend’s support; later, their own children’s need for love. A vicious cycle, eroding connections.
Is there a way out? Start with talking. Parents mustn’t just give, but explain why—show the value in their efforts. Children must learn to notice, to say “thanks,” even for small things. A simple, “Mum, dinner was lovely,” warms the heart more than gifts. And above all—remember time’s fleeting. Today, your mum waits for your call; tomorrow, she might be gone. Then, ingratitude becomes regret that lingers forever.
Picture an elderly woman by the window, holding a photo of her with her toddler son. She asks so little—just for him to remember her lullabies. Meanwhile, he’s in some sleek office, scrolling his phone, unaware his silence is ingratitude, and it cuts deep. Why wait until it’s too late? Gratitude isn’t an obligation—it’s what keeps us human. If we learn to thank our parents, the world might soften just a little. And perhaps ingratitude will fade, a shadow we’ve stepped past together.