Judge, Jury, and Executioner: The Parent We Become
-
Ramya Harman
- January 23, 2026
Parents don’t have plans to become the constant evaluator of their child’s every move. Most parents begin with tenderness, with patience, with the intention to protect and nurture. But somewhere between school runs, work deadlines, household chores, and the quiet fear of “Am I doing this right?”, a subtle shift happens. Love starts wearing the clothes of control. Concern starts speaking the language of correction. And before we realise it, we begin to occupy three roles in our children’s lives: judge, jury, and sometimes, without meaning to, executioner.
It usually starts in the smallest moments. A spilled glass of milk. A forgotten homework notebook. A door not closed properly. A tone in a child’s voice that feels a little too sharp.
Nothing dramatic. Just ordinary days inside ordinary homes. But in these moments, something quietly unfolds. The parent becomes the judge. The parent becomes the jury. And sometimes, without intending to, the parent becomes the executioner too.
The First Verdict of the Day
Ananya stood in the kitchen staring at the wet patch spreading across the counter. Her eight-year-old son froze beside the overturned glass. She didn’t shout. She didn’t even raise her voice. But her sigh was enough. The look on her face said everything.
Again? Why can’t you be careful? How many times will I tell you? In seconds, the verdict was delivered. Careless. Thoughtless. Not paying attention. Her son picked up the cloth quietly. He knew the routine. Wipe. Apologise. Move on. No harm done. No big scene. Just another everyday incident. Except these are the moments children store away. The moments where they learn who they are in the eyes of the person whose opinion matters most.
The Jury of Expectations
Later that evening, homework time began. Questions asked. Answers checked. Corrections made. Patience tested.
Everyday Verdicts
Choosing a Different Role
“Wrong again.” “Didn’t you listen in class?” “You can do better than this.” Each sentence carried love underneath. But on the surface, it carried judgment. The child tried again. Slower this time. Less confident. Eyes flicking up for approval that rarely came.
The jury had decided: Not good enough yet.
We rarely mean to judge them so harshly. But love, fear, and control often blur quietly.
Categories are time-bound. I find this prevents us from rabbit-holing on topics that could consume the entire session, instead, these are tabled for future conversations. With our challenges laid out on the table, the exercise encourages an outcomes-focused mindset to help us divine actions
Everyday Executions
It doesn’t stop at schoolwork. A child choosing the “wrong” clothes. A teenager choosing the “wrong” friends. A preference that doesn’t match the parent’s idea of normal. A dream that feels too risky. Without intending to, parents deliver tiny executions:
“That’s silly.”
“You’ll change your mind.”
“You don’t know what’s good for you.”
Not said in cruelty. Said in fear. But each sentence chips away at self-trust.
Fear Disguised as Love
Most parents never intend to judge their children harshly. They do it from fear. Fear that the child will fall behind. Fear that mistakes will shape their future. Fear that the world will not be kind. So parents step in. Correct. Direct. Fix. Prevent. Control.
And slowly, the child learns to look outward for validation instead of inward for trust.
The Day It Feels Different
One weekend, Ananya watched her son building a small Lego structure. It tilted awkwardly. Pieces didn’t align. But he was proud.
He held it up. “Look, Mom!”
She almost said, “That’s not how it’s supposed to be.”
Almost.
But something made her pause. She saw the excitement in his eyes. The courage it took to show something imperfect. The small risk of sharing. And she said instead, “Tell me about it.”
His face lit up. He explained every crooked piece. Every unusual choice. Every story behind it.
In that moment, she wasn’t judge.
She wasn’t jury.
She wasn’t executioner.
She was witness.
The Shift No One Teaches You
Parenting often begins with authority. Children need guidance. Boundaries. Protection. But somewhere along the way, authority can quietly harden into judgment. Guidance into micromanagement. Protection into control. The shift back begins with noticing. Noticing how quickly we correct. How often we evaluate. How rarely we simply observe.
Becoming a Compass Instead of a Courtroom
Children don’t need parents who never judge. They need parents who know when not to. Parents who understand that mistakes are not character flaws. That curiosity is not defiance. That different is not wrong. When parents soften their role, children grow stronger inside. They learn to evaluate themselves. To trust their instincts. To take risks without fear of harsh verdicts.
A Different Ending Than the One We Grew Up With
Many parents repeat patterns they never chose. They parent the way they were parented. With correction before curiosity. With expectation before exploration. Breaking that cycle is not instant. It happens in small pauses. In withheld criticism. In replaced questions. In softened tone.
Ending Where It Matters
That night, after her son fell asleep, Ananya walked past his room. The Lego structure sat on the shelf. Crooked. Proud. Complete.
She smiled.
Tomorrow there would be more spilled milk. More homework. More messy moments.
But perhaps, slowly, she could choose a different role.
Not judge.
Not jury.
Not executioner.
Just parent.
And sometimes, just presence.
