When my sons were in elementary school, these two commands came out of my mouth on a daily basis: behave and be nice.

When I had teenage boys, the words changed:  study and clean your room.

As an older adult, I realized how lame those phrases were.

Children don’t really understand what “behave” means.

At home, they’re allowed to run around in their underwear like they’re wild beasts.

It’s not until we explain the difference between what we can do at home versus what we do out in public that the word “behave” starts to make sense.

As far as “be nice,” they thought that meant to stop sitting on their brother. When they were teens, “be nice” meant stop drinking orange juice straight out of the carton.

They didn’t understand “be nice” meant to not do those things in the first place. “Be nice” meant absolutely nothing to them. Instead “stop it” usually did the trick.

I thought teachers explained the process of studying to my boys. “Study” meant on the day the teacher gave information, my sons should go home and rewrite what the teacher said.

They needed to do that every day. In addition, they needed to read their notes from beginning to end every night.

That way, they were reviewing the lessons at least 10 times before a test. There was no need to stay up for hours the night before the test.

Did they follow that advice? Not one bit.

I finally understand why they were at a loss when I said “clean your room.” To them, that meant gather up all the dirty clothes that were under and on top of the bed, thrown on the floor and shoved in the closet and dump them in one giant pile in front of the washing machine for me to take care of.

I should’ve been more. The phrase “clean your room” should’ve been replaced by a step-by-step explanation.

“After taking the clothes to the laundry room, go back to your room and bring all the dirty bowls and plate you shoved under your bed down to the kitchen.”

Then we could move up from clearing off the floor. It was time to “make the bed.”

Those three words meant different things to me and my teenager. “Make the bed,” in his mind, meant throwing a blanket over the wrinkled sheets.

To me, “make the bed” meant tucking the ends of the sheets underneath the mattress, putting the comforter over the sheets, putting the pillows on the bed and smoothing everything out.

We compromised. They were fine with unmade beds. I learned to close the door to their rooms.

It’s the same when we get to be adults.

“Do your best.”

“Keep trying.”

“Don’t give up.”

My best and somebody else’s best are definitely two different things. One person’s best might be to endure a boring, uninspiring job until it’s time to clock out. That’s the best they can do.

Another person’s best might be to find a way to make that boring, uninspiring job interesting. That’s the best they can do. Who am I to say who’s on the healthier path?

“Keep trying” was always frustrating for me. The first ten times I tried to do what you asked me to do, I failed. Why should I keep trying when what I’m doing isn’t working?

Wouldn’t it be better to tell me “let’s find a different way?” And then you help me find a better way?

The phrase “don’t give up” works when you’re learning how to ride a bike. The more you pedal, the more you find your balance, the more successful you’ll be.

There is one instance where “do your best” works for me. I’m going to do my best to be specific when asking myself or someone else to do something.

And learn to live with an unmade bed.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.