International Children’s Day

I almost forgot that today is International Children’s Day. The date shifts from country to country, which probably explains why it often goes unnoticed. But for me, its meaning sits close.
I work with children every day. I guide them, comfort them, laugh with them, and watch them grow into themselves. And every day, I see something I once needed. Something I did not always receive. I was a child who learned to be careful. A child who held too much. A child who adapted to adults instead of being allowed to be small.

Now I stand on the other side. I get to offer what I once missed. Patience. Warmth. Safety. A bit of softness when the world feels too loud. I get to kneel down to eye level and really listen. I get to honour the small, invisible moments that shape a child more than we think. Moments that stay.

That is why I love my job as an educator and preschool teacher. It sounds stupid but it is more vocation than work.
I know how deeply it matters when a child feels seen.
I know how fragile trust is when you are young.
I know how long certain words stay.
I know the difference one adult can make.

Childhood is not preparation for life. It is life. It leaves traces. Some are gentle. Some stay for years.

And talking about children is deeply personal. Having children is personal. Some people choose not to. Others wish they could but cannot. This day is not a manifesto for parenthood. It is not a judgement, not a rule, not an expectation. It is simply about those who already exist, who breathe, who grow, who feel. They deserve safety. They deserve space. They deserve the best we can give.
And while we speak about children, we also speak about women. I believe in choice. I believe no woman should be criminalised for ending a pregnancy. Autonomy matters. Safety matters. Nothing about caring for children should erase the reality that not everyone can or wants to become a parent. Both truths can exist at the same time.

International Children’s Day asks something small and human of us. To look honestly at who we once were. To understand what shaped us. To offer presence instead of perfection.

Children are not only the future. They are the present. They are forming their world right now. We walk beside them only for a short time, but what we do during that time matters.

And today carries another weight for me. It has been seventeen years since my mother-in-law passed away. She was the woman who showed me what motherhood could look like in its simplest, most present form. She taught me the value of time given freely to your children, the kind of time that feels warm and unhurried. I adored her from the moment I met her, and I believe she liked me too. She was one of a kind. Her quiet way of caring still lives in the way I move through my own family.

Two days after she died, Giulia was born. Seventeen years ago, grief and celebration sat side by side. One life ending, another beginning, both held in the same tender space. I remember the contrast so clearly. The ache of loss. The softness of new life. It shaped the way I look at family, at time, at everything we carry forward without even noticing.

And maybe that is the truest link to International Children’s Day. Life never pauses for the perfect moment. It continues in all directions at once. Children arrive in the middle of joy and chaos, in the shadow of loss or in the brightness of hope. They grow through whatever the world gives them. And it is on us, in whatever small ways we can, to offer presence, safety, and softness while they are here with us.