"Don't blame the child for wanting to be carried. Just say: I want to carry my child."
— Kak Indra

It was the end of the workday. I was sitting down for a quick bite before heading out. Kak Indra glanced over and asked casually,

"Still eating at the office?"

I answered without thinking,

"Yeah, because I have to carry Ina all the way home."

It came out automatically — that's just been my daily routine. But Kak Indra's response made me stop and think for a moment.

He said,

"Try reframing that. Not 'I have to carry her', but 'I want to carry my child.' Sounds better, doesn't it?"

And it did. It felt more genuine. More honest.

The Language We Use Shapes Our Story

As a programmer, I'm used to thinking in terms of structure, logic, and efficiency. But becoming a father taught me something important: not everything beautiful needs to be efficient, and not every hug needs to be practical.

By saying "I have to carry her," I was unconsciously making it sound like a burden. But it's my choice. I want to carry my child. I want to be there for her every evening after work, even when I'm tired. I want to be the safest place she knows at the end of a long day.

A Real Parallel: From Error Handling to Carrying a Child

In programming, language also shapes how we see problems.

For example:

• We could say, "The app is broken because the user entered bad input."
  But it's better to say, "We haven't handled user input well enough yet."

Or:

• "We're stuck because the backend is slow."
  Could become: "We're working on finding a more efficient way to communicate with the backend team."

Both ways of speaking describe the same situation, but they create very different atmospheres. One assigns blame, the other invites ownership.

And that's exactly the same shift as saying "I have to carry her" versus "I want to carry her."

Language isn't just how we communicate — it's how we assign meaning.

Being a Parent and a Professional Aren't in Conflict

We often feel like we have to split ourselves in two: the office version and the home version, the professional and the parent. But I'm starting to believe the two can coexist.

Carrying my child doesn't stop me from being a focused programmer. If anything, it's a reminder — that behind every line of code, there's a reason I work hard: because there's a little person waiting at home, who believes my arms are the best place in the world.

Closing Thought

I'm not going to say "I have to carry her" anymore.
I'm going to say, "I want to carry my child."
Because out of everything I do in a day, that's the part I'm most grateful for.