“Daycare!” he sobbed, his voice breaking on the word as he moved to cling to my legs. “Please don’t make me!”
I held him and rocked him until he calmed down, whispering soft things that didn’t feel like enough. Maybe it was a bad dream, I thought. Or perhaps he was overtired. “Toddlers have moods, right?” I thought to myself, brushing it off.
But it wasn’t just that one day.
A child crying | Source: Pexels
The next morning, he wouldn’t get out of bed!
The moment I mentioned daycare, his lip would tremble. By Wednesday, he begged through tears not to go. Every morning, the same thing. There was panic, shaking, and pleading.
By Thursday night, I was exhausted and scared. I called our pediatrician, Dr. Adams.
“It’s normal,” she said kindly. “Separation anxiety at this age. It peaks around now.”
“But it doesn’t feel normal,” I said. “This doesn’t feel like his generic whining. It feels like fear. Pure fear.”
A concerned woman on a call | Source: Pexels
She paused, probably thinking I was being overly anxious. “Keep an eye on it. He might just be going through something developmental.”
I wanted to believe her. I really did.
Then Friday came. I was running late for work, and he was wailing again in the hallway. I am sorry to admit this, but I lost it.
“Stop it!” I shouted. “You have to go to daycare!”
The sound of my own voice made me flinch. But worse was the way Johnny stopped mid-sob, frozen like a deer in headlights. He didn’t move or blink. My poor son just stared at me, wide-eyed and trembling.
A scared little boy | Source: Freepik
I fell to my knees in front of him, finally realizing that Johnny wasn’t being stubborn; my baby was terrified! “I’m sorry,” I said, wrapping my arms around him.
“Sweetheart, why don’t you like daycare anymore?”
He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he stared at the floor before whispering so softly I almost missed it.
“No lunch,” he said. “Please, Mommy… no lunch.”
I froze. Lunch? My stomach dropped.
“No lunch?” I repeated.
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