A Small Joke, A Big Shift: a Mom's perspective

It takes less than 10 seconds for a child to decide if they feel safe with you.

Back when my daughter was a toddler, there was a pattern I began to notice almost everywhere I took her. It usually started simply enough—with someone asking her name, making a bit of small talk, and trying to engage her in conversation. She is naturally warm and talkative, and usually responds without hesitation.

But then, almost inevitably, came a certain kind of statement:
“Okay, I’ll take your mom with me—she’ll come to my house,” or “Your grandma is mine now,” or even “I’ll take this toy home.”

Often, with a playful smile. Just to “test” her reaction.

And yet, in that very moment, I saw something shift in her.

Her expression would change—subtly, but unmistakably. She would pause, look unsure, and instinctively respond, “No, I want my mom/ajji.” After that, she would withdraw, uncertain about this person who had just claimed they could take away the people she loved most. Sometimes, she would avoid any further interaction altogether.

As adults, we often dismiss such interactions as harmless teasing. But I came to realise that for children, these statements do not feel harmless at all. To them, their parents and grandparents are not just people—they are their entire sense of safety and stability. Even their small belongings are part of what makes their world predictable and secure.

So when someone—even jokingly—talks about taking those away, it does not register as humor. It introduces uncertainty.

This became even more evident during a visit to my hometown. Being back in the house where I grew up, surrounded by familiar people and memories, was comforting. But experiencing those same interactions through the lens of a parent gave me a completely new perspective.

One day, our house-help was chatting with my daughter. She was delighted to see her, and my daughter, though initially hesitant, slowly began to warm up. The interaction was going well—until the familiar pattern emerged.

“Whose toy is this? I’ll take it home.”
“Your grandma left you here.”

The change was immediate. My daughter grew uneasy. Sensing this, my mother intervened and firmly told her that this was not the right way to speak to a child. The lady, even though not formally educated, understood and never repeated it.

However, the impact of that first interaction lingered. For the rest of our stay, my daughter remained uncomfortable around her. She would repeatedly say, “Jayalakshmi ajji will take my things,” even though we reassured her otherwise.

It struck me then—children may be quick to react, but they are even quicker to form lasting associations. It took several warmer interactions for her to begin trusting her again.

A similar situation occurred with a neighbour—someone kind, dependable, and deeply trusted by our family. Yet, when she made remarks like, “Your grandma will stay at our place,” my daughter responded the same way: with discomfort and distance.

It made me pause and reflect. If a stranger were to tell me, even jokingly, that they would take away someone I love, I would not find it amusing. My first instinct would be confusion, perhaps even defensiveness.

Why, then, do we expect children to interpret such statements differently?

Interestingly, I also saw the complete opposite play out. There were homes we visited where no such teasing occurred. The conversations were simple, respectful, and grounded in genuine curiosity about the child herself. These people asked her about her interests, engaged her thoughtfully, and responded with warmth and humor.

In those spaces, my daughter thrived. She spoke freely, played for hours, and connected effortlessly with people she had just met.

The difference was not in her personality. It was in how safe she felt.

Most of these teasing remarks, I’ve noticed, come from people who genuinely love children—often elders who have raised children themselves. Perhaps it is a habit, or a style of interaction that has been carried forward over generations.

But maybe it is time to pause and reconsider.

There are far better ways to engage with a child—ways that build trust rather than momentary amusement. Listening to them, asking about their world, and allowing them to feel seen and secure go much further than any clever remark ever could.

So the next time we meet a child, perhaps we can hold back from saying, “I’ll take your mom with me.”

Because what feels like a joke to us might be the very moment a child decides they do not feel safe with us.

And the moment a child stops feeling safe with you, they also stop letting you in.