Picking up my daughter after a long time, I caught a glimpse of a side of her I didn't know

For the first time in a while, I went to pick up my daughter from daycare.
Usually, it is almost always my wife who goes to pick her up.

That is why the days I go to pick her up feel a little special.

I finished work a little early and headed to the daycare.

Where to park the bicycle.
The timing to press the intercom.
The atmosphere of the entrance.

When I go after a long time, it feels a bit like a place I don't belong.
Even though I am her parent, I feel a little nervous.
That was how I felt.

My daughter knew much better than I did

When I entered the entrance, my daughter noticed me.

"Oh, it's Daddy."

I thought she would run over to me when she said that, but she was calmer than I expected.

"Is it you today, Daddy?"

After asking that, she immediately headed toward her own belongings.
I followed behind her.

"I'm taking this home."
My daughter took her bag out from the shelf.

"This goes in here."
Saying that, she put the bag of dirty clothes into her bag.

"I need my water bottle, too."
"My hat goes here."
"I'm leaving this here because I'll use it tomorrow."

I just received the things she told me to take.

What to take home.
What to leave behind.
Where everything is.

My daughter knew much better than I did.

I thought I was the one picking her up, but inside the daycare, my daughter was the senior.

She had a look I don't see at home

The teacher approached me and said,
"She was playing house with her friends today."
"She was also taking good care of the younger children."
She told me.

My daughter listened from beside me, looking a little embarrassed.

It was a face I don't see at home.

The way she answered when the teacher spoke to her.
The way she turned around when her friends called her name.
The way she checked her belongings.
The order in which she put on her shoes.

All of these were a little different from the daughter I know at home.

At home, she often says,
“Do it for me,”
“I can't,”
or “Daddy, you do it,”
but at nursery school, she moves on her own.

Of course, I don't think she does everything perfectly every day.
But at the very least, there was a version of my daughter who exists in that place, spending her time there.

She isn't just the daughter who exists only in front of her parents.
She is the daughter in front of her teacher.
She is the daughter among her friends.
She is the daughter who spends her day at nursery school.

I realized that the daughter I see is not the entirety of who she is.

I learn about today's daughter from her teacher.

When you are at home, you feel like you know your child better than anyone else.

Her favorite foods.
The clothes she dislikes.
The face she makes when she's sleepy.
The timing of when she gets in a bad mood.

It is true that I know my daughter well at home.
But I knew almost nothing about my daughter today.

Who she played with.
What she made.
How much of her lunch she ate.
Who she laughed with.
If she had any little troubles.

I learn these things from her teacher.
“This happened today.”
Hearing that, I learn about my daughter's day for the first time.

Even though I am her parent, I don't know my daughter's day.
It was a strange feeling—a little lonely, yet somehow natural.

During the time I was working, my daughter had her own time too.
There were conversations I didn't know about, games I didn't know about, and expressions I didn't know about.

My daughter's day is no longer made up only of the time her parents see her.

Picking her up wasn't just a retrieval.

When you're busy, picking her up becomes a chore.

Carry her bags.
Put on her shoes.
Greet the teacher.
Put her on the bike.
Get home quickly.

When I get home, it's dinner.
Bath time.
Laundry.
Preparing for tomorrow.

My mind is filled with the next thing on the schedule.

That's why I tend to think of going to daycare just as 'the time to bring my child home.'
But when I went to pick her up after a while, I felt that it was more than just that.

It was a time to reunite with a child who had finished a day I knew nothing about.
My daughter had spent the day at daycare since leaving the house in the morning.

She laughed there, played, worked a little hard, probably got a little tired, and returned to me in the evening.

I was only present for a tiny fraction at the very end of that day.

The moment she saw her parent's face, she regressed a little

My daughter, who had been so capable at the entrance, suddenly said while putting on her shoes:

'Daddy, do it for me.'

Even though she had been packing her own bags just a moment ago, she wanted me to put her shoes on for her.

'You can put them on yourself, can't you?'

I started to say that, but stopped.

Maybe she had been working hard at daycare.

In front of her teachers.
In front of her friends.
In her own space.

Perhaps the moment she saw her parent's face, she was finally able to let her guard down.

A daughter who acts spoiled at home.
A slightly more mature big sister at daycare.

It's not a matter of which one is the 'real' her; I think both are my daughter.

Children change their faces depending on the place.

Just as adults are a little different outside than they are at home, it may be that children are living in their own version of society, too.

On the way home, my daughter talked a lot

Once I put her on the bicycle, my daughter suddenly started talking.

“So today, [Name]...”
“During lunch...”
“The teacher...”

Her story jumps all over the place.
There are parts where I don't really understand who did what.

Sometimes it turns into a song, or she switches to a different topic entirely.

Even so, the day my daughter had, which I hadn't known about until just now, started flowing into me little by little.
I didn't understand everything she said.

But I felt that listening was more important than understanding.

I can't get back every part of my daughter's day.
There are days when she won't answer even if I ask.
But I can pick up the fragments she chooses to share.

“Is that so?”
“That sounds interesting.”
“That must have been unpleasant.”

As I replied with things like that, I was receiving just a small edge of my daughter's day.

My daughter's daily life continues even when I'm not around.

At home, she still seems so small.

She spills her food.
She leaves her socks lying around.
She gets cranky when she's sleepy.
She sometimes asks to be carried.

But at daycare, my daughter had her own place.

Her own shelf.
Her own bag.
Friends she's close with.
Interactions with her teachers.
The routine before going home.

Even while I didn't know, my daughter's daily life was continuing properly.
In places where her parents aren't watching, my daughter is gradually expanding her own world.

That makes me feel a little lonely, yet also proud.
A child's growth isn't just visible inside the home.
Growth isn't just what they learn to do in front of their parents.

In places unknown to her parents, she learns the rules of that place, interacts with the people there, and spends her day in her own way.

I think that, too, is a great form of growth.

I thought I was just going to pick her up.

Once we got home from daycare, my daughter returned to her usual self.

She leaves her shoes where they are and runs into the living room.

Her bag is left behind in the entryway.

"Go wash your hands."

When I say that,

"I know, I know,"

she says, but she doesn't head to the washroom right away.

The composed version of her I saw at daycare just a moment ago feels a little distant now.

But I saw it.

The way she took her things from her shelf.
The voice she used to answer her teacher.
The face she made while waving to her friends.
The way her hands moved as she told me, "I'll use this again tomorrow."

Once we get home, we return to our usual daily routine, but that version of her was definitely my daughter, too.

Even during the time parents don't see, children are living their own lives.

Picking her up after a long time was a chance for me to see that for myself.