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.
He nodded, then buried his face in my chest like he was ashamed. My stomach turned. I knew he wasn’t a picky eater — he was just a small one.
He never forced himself to eat when he wasn’t hungry, and I never made him.
What could lunch have to do with this much dread?
I decided to keep him home that day. Luckily, Kenny, my neighbor’s teenage son, was around, and he gladly took the babysitting job. The best part — Johnny loved Kenny; they got on like a house on fire.
The next morning was Saturday, but I had some work to catch up on.
Johnny’s daycare also opened on weekends, allowing parents to handle errands or get some rest.
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