This morning, a few people saw my 10-year-old daughter walking to school while I followed behind in my car. Some asked why I wasn’t giving her a ride. Others just stared, whispering or giving me the kind of looks that say: “What kind of parent does that?”
So here’s the story.
Yesterday, my daughter forgot something—not her backpack, not her lunch.
She forgot respect.
Her tone was sharp. Her words were careless. And instead of listening when I asked her to calm down, she doubled down—rolling her eyes, talking back, acting as if she was the one in charge.
So this morning, I reminded her of something else she had forgotten:
Privileges are earned.
“Today,” I said calmly, “you’ll walk to school.”
She stared at me, shocked.
“But you always drive me!”
“I do,” I said. “But that’s a privilege, not a right.”
I didn’t yell.
I didn’t shame her.
I simply followed behind—far enough to give her the space to feel the consequence, close enough to keep her safe.
Every step she took wasn’t punishment—
it was a lesson.
She forgot how to treat adults with respect.
So she walked.
She confused her size with authority.
So she walked.
Her attitude toward me and toward others was unacceptable.
So she walked.
And as she walked, something changed.
Her shoulders dropped.
Her pace slowed.
By the time she reached the school gate, she turned around—eyes softer, voice quieter—and said,
“Mom… I’m sorry.”
I smiled, hugged her, and whispered,
“I love you. But I need you to love others with respect too.”
I’m not here to be her best friend.
I’m here to be her mother—
the kind who is okay with her child being upset for a little while
if it means they grow into someone kind, thoughtful, and grounded.
Too many parents are afraid to hurt their child’s feelings.
I’m more afraid of raising an entitled adult.
She’ll only be mad at me for a moment.
But the lesson?
That will stay with her for a lifetime.
We’re not here to be our kids’ friends.
We’re here to raise them into people worth being friends with. ❤️
