At the grocery store, my 4-year-old doesn’t see aisles of cereal and canned soup—she sees a stage. Every trip turns into a performance: pirouettes through produce, twirls in frozen foods, even the occasional cartwheel attempt near the pasta. Most shoppers smile, caught up in her joy.
But not everyone. One afternoon, as she spun to the faint hum of store music, an older woman stopped and frowned. With a sharp edge, she snapped, “Your mom should teach you some manners.”Before I could react, my daughter paused mid-spin, looked up with steady confidence, and said simply: “Tell your husband.”
The woman froze. Silence filled the aisle. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away. My daughter? She just went back to dancing, tapping her little feet against the linoleum as if nothing had happened.On the drive home, I kept replaying it. At just four, she hadn’t met criticism with anger or shame—just truth, clear and fearless.
She reminded me that joy doesn’t need permission, and sometimes the honesty of a child cuts through bitterness better than anything else.We spend so much time teaching kids about manners and rules. But maybe they’re here to remind us about the things we lose too easily as adults: courage, joy, and truth.