It’s 8:30 am, we’re at home preparing to send our daughter to kindergarten. Charlotte’s seems under the weather, so I ask her if she’s good enough to go.

She says she is but I sense a bit of reluctance. I say okay, but immediately go to the bedroom to discuss the issue with my wife.

“She seems like she’s developing symptoms of a cold. Should we still send her today?”

We look at each other and kind of knew that the answer is already in the air. Yes, we should send her. We do not want to set precedence for being able to choose whether or not she attends school on any given day. Discipline consists of showing up every day you’re required to show up, until you realise you really should not. We want to inculcate this in her from young.

So, we pack our last bits and drag our bodies out the door.

We arrive at the kindergarten at 8:57 am and we happen to be greeted at the door by one of the child minders whom Charlotte dislikes.

Charlotte, already reluctant to head to kindergarten, is now even less enthusiastic. She hugs my leg tight.

Since 9:00 am is the official door-shut hour, we have three minutes to walk her through the door. The child minder, however, does something surprising — she takes a few steps out the door, bends down, picks Charlotte up without saying a word, stands up, and starts carrying her in.

Charlotte understandably doesn’t like this, so she starts crying for “Daddy!” The lady ignores this, displays a weak smile at me, and hits the electronic door release button.

“It’s going to be okay, Charlotte. I’ll see you this afternoon and I’ll bring mama as well. I love you!”

And the door shuts between us.

Don’t worry, this kindergarten isn’t a prison for children. It’s just that the optics are clearer when focused in description like this. She likes her friends and other child minders in there.

Also, she was fine that evening. I broached the topic to her, explaining to her how that child minder should have been more patient and let her walk in by herself. She now dislikes that child minder even more and articulates it as “she should be patient!”

What I noticed: An impatient child minder who is clearly in the wrong job.

What I thought: We, her parents, are still ultimately responsible and capable of guiding her and inculcating in her a sense of respect for others (i.e. not picking up little children without consent), patience, and confidence. It’s a good thing we spend a lot of time with her outside of kindergarten (it’s roughly 45 hours at kindergarten, 45 hours with us).

Why it matters: Children need space and time to make their own mistakes and learn from them.

The simple act of picking them up by their armpits without first telling them that you’re about to do so will make them feel like a piece of furniture, not a person navigating the world as a fully functioning member of the human species.

The child minder’s lack of patience robbed Charlotte of an opportunity to contend with a platter of choices and make (the right or wrong) one.