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“My daughter always cried at lunch too,” she said softly. “I thought she was just being fussy.
But after the inspection, she told me Miss Claire used to scold her. Said she was ungrateful if she didn’t eat everything.”
I kept telling her to stop being picky. But she was scared.”
I placed my hand on her arm. “You didn’t know.”
She nodded, biting her lip.
“But your son, he gave mine the courage to speak up.”
That night, I looked at Johnny differently. He hadn’t just saved himself. With that one tiny whisper, he’d started something that protected others, too.
The daycare, unable to meet the requirements set, lost its license.
Some families panicked and scrambled, but most were relieved. We all deserved better.
I found a new daycare for Johnny. One with trained teachers and open communication.
The staff there actually listened. They greet each child by name and ask questions.
They have a flexible lunch policy and keep open communication with parents. On Johnny’s first day there, one of the teachers crouched down to his level and said, “You eat as much or as little as your tummy wants, okay?”
He grinned, a real one!
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