A three-year-old throws tantrums and begs his mother not to go to daycare. Worried, she goes in unannounced and what she sees shocks her.
“No, mommy, no!” Johnny threw himself on the floor and started screaming. Marla Evans sighed. Not again! She looked at her watch. If he threw a full tantrum, she would be late yet again.
She gazed at her three-year-old with exasperation. Johnny had been going to daycare for two years and always loved it. For the last week, out of the blue, he’d been making a scene, begging Marla not to take him.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
She’d spoken to her pediatrician, and the doctor had told her that toddlers often went through the ‘terrible threes.’ “Stop it!” Marla heard herself scream, then she saw the look of fear in her son’s eyes. Something wasn’t right.
Marla sat down on the floor next to Johnny and coaxed him into her lap. He sobbed, pressing his little face against hers. Marla decided this was more than a tantrum, but what could be wrong?
“Honey,” Marla said gently. “I’m sorry. Mommy didn’t mean to snap.” She rocked him until he stopped crying and asked gently, “Why don’t you like daycare anymore?”
Raising a child is about setting and respecting boundaries.
Johnny shivered in her arms and whispered, “I don’t like!”
“But why, sweetie?” Marla asked. “Are the other kids mean?” But Johnny wouldn’t answer. Marla sighed. “Baby, mommy needs to go to work, but I tell you what… I’m going to come and get you from daycare early today, OK?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Johnny sat up in her lap. “No lunch?” He looked up at her anxiously. “No lunch, mommy?”
Lunch? The worried mom frowned. What was happening with her son?
Marla dropped Johnny off after promising she’d fetch him before lunch. He walked into the daycare quietly but threw Marla a pleading look that left her heartbroken.
She went to work and asked her boss for the afternoon off to deal with a personal issue. Thankfully, her boss was a mom too and understood!
Marla was determined to get to the bottom of Johnny’s reluctance to go to daycare. She decided to drop in — not before lunchtime as she promised Johnny — but during the meal.
Johnny’s daycare didn’t allow the parents into the children’s playrooms or the dining room, but each door of the facility had a large, clear glass window. Hopefully, Marla would be able to see what — if anything — was going on.
When she arrived, the receptionist told her the children were having lunch. Marla walked to the dining room and peered in. The kids were all sitting at their tables, eating.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
A teacher or an assistant supervised each table. Marla quickly spotted Johnny. There was a woman Marla didn’t recognize sitting next to him.
As Marla watched, the woman picked up Johnny’s spoon, scooped up a portion of mashed potatoes, and pressed it against his lips. “Eat!” she cried. Johnny shook his head violently, his mouth firmly closed, tears running down his cheeks.
“Open your mouth and eat!” the woman said angrily. Johnny was looking deeply distressed. The woman cried, “You are going to sit here until you clear your plate!”
Marla saw a small portion of mince, mash, and vegetables left on Johnny’s plate, and she knew her son. Johnny was not a big eater; she never pushed it when he told her he’d had enough.
Johnny opened his mouth to protest, and the teacher quickly pushed the spoon in. Marla saw her son choke and sputter. She’d had enough! She opened the door and stormed in.
“Get away from my son!” she cried.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
The woman looked up, and her mouth hung open. “Parents aren’t allowed in the dining room!” she cried.
“Then they should be,” Marla said, reining in her anger. “Can’t you see Johnny’s had enough? He’s a healthy boy, but he is not a big eater. As an educator, you should know how traumatic force-feeding a child can be.
“Being forced to clean up the plate is an old-fashioned notion. You should be aware of the statistics and the causes of obesity and eating disorders in children.
“And one of them is making food an issue! My little boy is an active child, and if he feels he’s had enough, you need to respect that and not force him to eat.
“As for shoving food into a child’s mouth in that way, it is reprehensible! You should certainly know better. These children are not puppets for you to manipulate at will!
“They are little people with needs and a will of their own. If you don’t respect their boundaries, you teach them they don’t deserve respect. I don’t think that is a message you want to pass on!”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
The teacher flushed a bright red and got to her feet. “I never…” she cried.
“That’s a pity,” Marla said crisply. “Because if this happens again, I will ensure you are out of a job! I’m not sending my son to daycare to be brutalized!”
Marla walked over to Johnny and tenderly wiped his mouth. “Come on, honey,” she said gently. “Mommy promised you a treat this afternoon!”
Marla had a long talk with Johnny, and there was no tantrum the next morning. Over the next few weeks, she popped into the daycare at lunch times just to keep an eye on things.
The teacher never forced Johnny to eat again, and the boy recovered his good humor and enthusiasm.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
What can we learn from this story?
- Children and their boundaries should be respected. Johnny’s teacher was teaching him that adults had the right to impose their will on children against their welfare.
- Raising a child is about setting and respecting boundaries — theirs and ours. A child whose boundaries are not respected is insecure and has low self-esteem.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
On Thanksgiving Eve, I Took in an Abandoned Child Only to Uncover My Boyfriend’s True Intentions — Story of the Day
On Thanksgiving Eve, a single moment unraveled everything I thought I knew about love, family, and the future I’d planned. One unexpected encounter forced me to face a choice I never saw coming.
My cart was brimming with everything needed for the perfect Thanksgiving Eve: turkey, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, and even a bouquet of fresh flowers for the centerpiece. It was a ritual I loved, a chance to create something warm and special, even if Paul and I hadn’t fully agreed on what “special” meant for our future.
Passing the baby aisle, I couldn’t help but slow down. Rows of soft onesies and tiny shoes drew my gaze. I imagined the life I longed for—children laughing, little hands helping set the table. Paul hadn’t warmed to the idea yet, but I told myself he would someday.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“I need to grab some wine,” Paul said suddenly, pulling me from my thoughts. “Why don’t you finish up here? I’ll meet you at the car.”
“Okay. Don’t be long.”
He leaned in, kissed my cheek lightly, and walked away toward the liquor section. Before I could reach for the whipped cream on my list, a frantic voice startled me.
“Excuse me! Please, can you hold her for just a minute?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I turned to see a woman, her face pale and her eyes darting around. Without waiting for my answer, she placed a small child in my arms.
“I’ll be right back!” she said hurriedly and disappeared into the aisles.
The little girl was so light in my arms, clutching a well-worn stuffed rabbit and staring up at me. Her light curls framed her face, giving her an angelic, fragile look.
“Uh… hi there,” I said, crouching down to her level and carefully setting her on her feet. “What’s your name?”
“Ella,” she whispered, holding her rabbit closer.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“That’s a beautiful name.
I glanced around, hoping to catch sight of her mother, but the aisle was empty. Minutes ticked by, turning into ten. Unease settled deep in my stomach.
I couldn’t wait any longer, so I walked with Ella to the security desk to seek help to locate her mother. The staff quickly made an announcement over the intercom, but no one came forward. Ella pressed herself against my side.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Mommy said I’d spend the holidays with a new mommy,” she whispered.
The words hit me like a blow. My throat tightened as I fought back the surge of emotion.
“Lisa?” Paul approached, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and frowning as he took in the scene.
“What’s going on?” he asked, glancing between Ella and me.
I explained quickly, my words tumbling out.
“We need to take her to the police,” Paul said firmly. “They’ll know what to do.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I hesitated, looking down at Ella. Her tiny hand was still gripping mine like I was the only thing anchoring her to safety.
“Paul, I…”
“This isn’t something you can solve, Lisa,” he interrupted. “It’s not safe to keep her with us.”
I nodded, feeling a heavy weight settle in my chest as we walked to the car. Ella climbed into the backseat. She didn’t cry or fuss, she just stared quietly out the window as the streetlights flickered past.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
Paul drove in silence. I glanced at Ella. Her small figure looked so vulnerable huddled in the back seat. With every passing mile, the pull to protect her only grew stronger.
“Is that turkey in the bag?” Ella’s small voice broke the silence.
“Yes,” I said, turning slightly to meet her gaze. “It’s for Thanksgiving dinner.”
“What’s Thanksgiving?” she asked, tilting her head as though trying to puzzle it out.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“It’s a holiday where we celebrate everything we’re thankful for,” I explained. “We gather with family, share a big meal, and spend time together.”
She frowned slightly. “I’ve never had a Thanksgiving. Is turkey good?”
The simplicity of her question hit me harder than I expected.
“Turkey’s delicious. And cranberry sauce, too. Have you ever tried it?”
Ella shook her head, clutching the rabbit closer. “No. Mommy says holidays are for other people.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
My heart ached for her. As the police station came into view, I felt my pulse quicken.
“Paul, pull over,” I said suddenly, pointing to a gas station on the right.
“What?” He glanced at me, his brows knitting together. “We’re almost there, Lisa. Let’s just get this done.”
“Please, Paul. I need a moment to think.”
With a huff of frustration, he turned into the gas station and parked by the pumps. I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped out into the crisp November air.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Paul followed. “What are you doing?”
“I’m not sure we should take her to the station yet. She’s just a child, Paul. She’s never had a Thanksgiving dinner. She’s never even tasted turkey.”
“And how is that our problem?” he shot back, gesturing toward the car. “Lisa, this isn’t our responsibility.”
“Maybe not. But doesn’t she deserve one happy evening? One night where she feels safe and loved?”
“Are you serious right now? You want to bring a stranger’s kid into our home? Do you even hear yourself?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I nodded. At that moment, Paul strode to the car, opened the back door, and motioned for Ella to get out.
“Paul, wait…” I started, panic rising in my chest.
“Good luck, Lisa,” he said coldly, climbing back into the driver’s seat.
Without another glance, he pulled away, leaving Ella and me standing at the gas station.
“It’s okay,” Ella whispered, looking up at me with a brave smile.
Her words both broke and steadied me. I knew I couldn’t turn back.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
Ella and I returned to the store. As we wandered through the aisles, I let her pick out a few extra decorations—paper turkeys, bright orange streamers, and even a tiny plush turkey she hugged tightly as if it were a long-lost friend.
“Can we get these too?” she asked, pointing to a pack of colorful paper napkins with cartoon pilgrims on them.
“Of course,” I said, smiling. “Anything else?”
She tilted her head thoughtfully, then grabbed a bag of marshmallows. “These.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I couldn’t go back to Paul’s place, but thankfully, I had my small apartment. It wasn’t festive or particularly grand, but it was mine. So, arriving at my apartment, we began the transformation.
Ella’s enthusiasm was contagious as she helped unpack the bags. Later, she insisted on stirring the cranberry sauce, her small hands gripping the wooden spoon tightly as she stood on a step stool.
“Is this okay?” she asked, looking up at me.
“It’s perfect,” I assured her. “You’re a natural.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
The apartment began to glow from the warmth Ella brought into the space. When the turkey was finally ready, I carried it to the table, and Ella gasped as if I had presented her with a treasure.
“It’s so big,” she whispered, her eyes as round as the plates I’d set out.
“Let’s eat!” I said, pulling out a chair for her.
She hesitated, standing by her seat. “This is like a real Thanksgiving, right?”
“It is. The realest one I’ve ever had.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
We sat together, and Ella’s laughter rang out as she tried cranberry sauce for the first time, her face scrunching up before she declared it “weird but good.”
Ella sat on the floor, cradling her plush turkey and staring at the glowing candles.
“Tomorrow, it’ll be over. I know I can’t stay.”
I knelt beside her, pulling her into my arms. “Ella, I wish you could. But tonight is ours, okay? No one can take this away.”
She nodded against my shoulder. “Thank you for today. It was the best day ever.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Meanwhile, a sharp knock at the door shattered the moment. I opened the door to find two representatives from Child Protective Services standing there. Behind them, Paul stood silently.
The CPS worker knelt at Ella’s level. “Hi, sweetie. We’re here to take you somewhere safe.”
Ella’s grip on my arm tightened. “Do I have to go?”
“They’ll take good care of you. I promise.”
Her small hand slipped from mine as they gently led her away. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she kept looking back at me, her turkey clutched tightly to her chest.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
As the door closed behind the CPS workers, I stood frozen, the emptiness of the apartment settling over me. Ella’s laughter still echoed faintly in my ears, but the warmth of the evening had vanished. I barely registered Paul’s footsteps as he walked up behind me.
“Well,” he said casually, his tone almost cheerful. “Let’s head to my place. We can still have that Thanksgiving dinner we planned.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I turned to him slowly. “Paul… are you serious?”
My voice wavered, caught somewhere between disbelief and anger. He frowned slightly as if he couldn’t quite grasp what I was upset about.
“What? I know tonight’s been… different, but we can still salvage it. I’ve got everything ready back home.”
“Paul,” I said, my words sharp, “how can you even think about that right now?”
“Is this about earlier? Look, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have left you two like that. I… I overreacted.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
I stared at him. “You weren’t thinking clearly? Paul, a little girl needed one evening of love, of feeling like someone cared about her!”
He stepped closer, his hands raised in a gesture of appeasement.
“I get it. And I’m sorry. But Lisa, you can’t let this ruin everything. We’re good together as we are. Why complicate things with kids?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Paul, this isn’t just about Ella. I’m 36. It’s about the family I’ve dreamed of.”
“Lisa, I love you. Isn’t that enough?”
“Not really. Not in the way I need us to be.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I am.”
“I guess this is it, then,” Paul muttered, heading for the door.
I didn’t stop him. The life I had imagined with him was nothing more than an illusion.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
That night, sleep was impossible. I lay awake, my mind replaying every moment with Ella. By morning, I drove to CPS and explained my intentions. The caseworker warned me of the challenges.
“These processes take time. It won’t be easy.”
“I’ll wait,” I said without hesitation. “However long it takes.”
Weeks passed. Finally, on Christmas Eve, the call came. My approval had been finalized. Ella was coming home.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
When I opened the door to see her standing there, her small face breaking into a smile, the weight of the past months disappeared. She ran into my arms, hugging me tightly.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Welcome home, Ella.”
That night, we decorated a Christmas tree together, stringing lights and hanging ornaments. Ella became my miracle, the heart of every holiday to come, and the family I had dreamed of for so long.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.
If you enjoyed this story, read this one: I thought adopting a child would complete our family, but nothing prepared me for the challenges that followed. Just when everything seemed to fall apart, an unexpected turn changed our lives forever.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
Leave a Reply