This morning, something unusual happened.
As my 10-year-old daughter walked to school, I followed behind her at a distance. A few people noticed. Some asked questions. Others gave me looks—confused, judgmental, even disapproving.
They didn’t know the story.
Here’s why she was walking.
She had forgotten how to speak to adults with respect.
She had mistaken her growing size and confidence for authority.
Her attitude toward me—and toward others—had crossed a line that couldn’t be ignored.
So, instead of arguing, lecturing, or rescuing her from the consequences, I told her to walk.
Not because I wanted to embarrass her.
Not because I was angry.
But because sometimes lessons need to be felt, not just heard.
That ride to school is a privilege—not a right. And she’ll ride again when she learns to appreciate it. Until then, I stayed close enough to keep her safe, but far enough to let the lesson sink in. I didn’t sugarcoat it.
I’m not raising her to think I’m her best friend.
I’m the mom who’s okay with her being mad at me for a little while.
I’m the mom who’s willing to be misunderstood by strangers.
I’m the mom who cares more about the adult she’s becoming than the comfort of the moment.
Too many parents are afraid of hurting their child’s feelings. I’m more afraid of raising an entitled adult who doesn’t understand respect, gratitude, or accountability.
She may be upset with me today.
She may remember this walk with frustration.
But the thinking, the reflecting, the maturing—that will stay with her far longer than the anger.
We’re not here to be our kids’ friends.
We’re here to raise them into people who are kind, respectful, grounded—
people who are friends worth having. ❤️
