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It peaks around now.”
“But it doesn’t feel normal,” I said. “This doesn’t feel like his generic whining. It feels like fear.
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.
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