I recently had the privilege of addressing over 300 parents and grandparents at the preschool orientation of Viswajyothi School, and what an extraordinary experience it was.

First, I was humbled by the veterans I shared the stage with. Then came the sheer scale: 300+ children in preschool alone! What stood out wasn’t just the infrastructure, but the *energy*

-Teachers beaming with genuine smiles, not a hint of exhaustion

-A preschool head who was equal parts grace and precision

-Calm, grounded priests dressed in white, radiating presence

- An auditorium (with a giant fan!) packed with 'not just mothers' (like always) but fathers too, kudos to the Angamaly dads who showed up fully!

What followed were deeply vulnerable, grounded questions from young parents, questions I myself once lived through, 15 years ago:

“How do I know if I’m doing enough?”

“How do I balance different parenting styles across my three children?”

“How do I regulate my anger?”

“How do I teach my child to say no, with humility?”

“What do I do when the same grandparents who raised us with strictness suddenly change rules with our children?”

These weren’t just questions. They were 'windows' into a generation willing to grow, reflect, and parent with awareness rather than perfection.

But what truly hit home was a moment I hadn’t planned for.

A little girl came on stage to present me with a small potted plant. She had likely been coached to say “You’re welcome” after receiving a “Thank you.” I did say thank you, and immediately followed with, “What’s your name?”

She looked at me, paused, and said softly:

“You’re welcome.”

It landed like a lesson I didn’t know I needed.

I had rushed to connect, assuming she could *pivot instantly* from what she was trained to say. But her little nervous system was doing something immense, standing on stage, facing a sea of unfamiliar faces, following through with her part.

And I had interrupted it.

That moment , of her presence, and my unintentional hurry, mirrored the core message of my talk:

Parenting isn’t about managing our children.

It’s about managing ourselves.

It’s not called “childing” , it's called parenting, for a reason.

To raise emotionally healthy children, we must do the inner work.

Regulate, when tempted to react.

Repair, when pulled to retreat.

Apologise, without blame or shame.

Learn presence over performance.

Thank you, Viswajyothi, for allowing me to witness, share, and most importantly -"learn".