This morning, I woke my daughter up for school one last time. I cut up cucumbers and rinsed raspberries, packed her snacks, took the final “Last Day of School” photo, and posted it alongside her first day of kindergarten picture with the caption: First Day → Last Day. But it’s not really a last day. It’s a gateway, a moment suspended between everything that’s come before and everything she’s about to begin.
She’s stepping into a life where she doesn’t need me every day, and that’s the goal.
A few months ago, her college roommate plans fell through when her friend chose a different school. Quietly, she regrouped, found new options through Michigan State University’s Instagram pages, and chose a new roommate, all without asking for help.
Then came the text, the day after she cemented plans with her new roommate:
“mom my friend just got into msu, and i really want to room with her" "what should i say to the other girl?”
Wouldn’t it be nice if parenting had A/B testing? Option A: Offer supportive wisdom, calmly. Option B: Lecture about honoring commitments. Option C: Say nothing and trust.
But unlike software design, there is no user data. Instead, it’s all gut checks, messy feedback loops, and learning on both sides. Parenting is a continuous process of iteration–a cycle of trial, adjustment, and growth–designed to help a child grow into an independent, capable adult who no longer needs you every day.
That same iterative mindset shapes how we approach design at Menlo. We observe real users in their native environments to understand their goals, frustrations, and behaviors on a human level. Our job isn’t to create dependency. It’s to build solutions that people can navigate confidently without us looking over their shoulder. The goal is always the same: to design systems that eventually don’t need us anymore. Just like in parenting, success isn’t measured by how involved we remain, but how well what we’ve built (or raised) stands on its own. It means gradually stepping back and knowing you’ve equipped someone to move forward independently. Whether it’s a product or a person, our aim is to release something into the world that can stand, and thrive, without us.
I was in the middle of my workday when Annabelle’s text came through, and I couldn’t stop to help her navigate it. So, whether by choice or circumstance, Option C it was: say little, trust a lot. And she handled it. She took a deep breath, sent a kind and honest message to the other girl, and gracefully moved forward with her decision. No panic. No hand-holding. No capital letters or punctuation. Just a thoughtfully worded text, navigating a tricky situation with empathy and maturity. In that moment, I saw exactly what I’d been preparing her for–not perfection, but the ability to think things through, take responsibility, and act with care.
Whether in UX or parenting, the best “design” is often the one that fades into the background, empowering the user (or child) to act with confidence and purpose. There’s a strange pride in becoming obsolete, not because you are irrelevant, but because you’ve done your job. That’s how we feel when we hand our software over to our clients at the end of a project. We are no longer needed, and that brings us joy.
“Commencement” means beginning. In just a week, she will be walking across the stage to mark both an ending and the start of something entirely new. I will feel all of the emotions: pride, nostalgia, a little heartache, but mostly, joy. Because that’s what we’ve been working toward all along–not just graduation, but independence. The real milestone isn’t the ceremony itself; it’s knowing that she is out there in the world, figuring it out, adapting, and thriving. On her own. She’s testing, learning, and iterating in real-time. Not on a screen, but in life.
She handled it. She’s ready. Not just to live on her own, but to lead her own life.
She doesn’t just know how to find solutions–she knows how to own them. She’s not just solving problems, she’s designing her life. And that’s how I know she’s ready to fly.
At Menlo, we often talk about designing with empathy and intention. About creating systems that people can use without fear, frustration, or dependence. What greater design challenge is there than parenting? And what greater success metric than watching someone step into the world–capable, confident, and wholly their own person.
That’s the moment we work toward. As makers. As mentors. As parents.
That’s the real commencement.