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.
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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?”
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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.
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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.
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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!”
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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.
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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.
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I Never Thought I’d Be Fighting over a Wedding Dress with My Future MIL While the Real Reason Stayed Hidden – Story of the Day
I thought wedding planning would bring us closer, but I never imagined it would lead to a showdown in a bridal shop. Who knew my biggest rival wouldn’t be just another bride but my future mother-in-law? And the reason behind it all? Let’s say it left me speechless.
Bryan proposed to me after just six months of dating. To some, it might seem rushed, but at 36, I had spent years waiting for someone who truly felt like my person. Bryan was the one I had always dreamed of. So when he knelt, holding that small velvet box, tears of happiness blurred my vision, and I didn’t hesitate to say yes.
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***
We flew to the small town where Bryan’s mother, Alice, lived, the kind of place where time seemed to move a little slower. I kept imagining our first meeting.
Will she approve of Bryan’s choice? Or will she find me lacking somehow?
As we pulled up to her cozy, charming white house with flower pots lining the porch, my nerves spiked. But when Alice stepped onto the porch, her smile was warm, genuine, and welcoming. She embraced Bryan tightly and then turned to me.
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“Maya, it’s wonderful to finally meet you!” she said, offering her hand.
“It’s great to meet you too, Alice.”
Inside, the house smelled like roasted turkey and apple pie. Dinner was already set, the table adorned with candles and fall decorations. It felt so inviting that my nerves started to ease.
As we sat down, Alice asked about my life in New York, how Bryan and I met, and even about my favorite Thanksgiving traditions.
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“New York must be such an exciting place to live,” she said, her eyes lighting up with curiosity. “I’ve always wondered what it’s like to wake up in a city that never sleeps.”
“It’s lively,” I said with a small laugh. “But sometimes, the quiet of a small town like this feels just as magical.”
Everything seemed perfect until Bryan and I shared our big news.
“We have something special to tell you,” Bryan said, his voice brimming with excitement. He reached for my hand, and I felt his warmth steady me. “We’re engaged!”
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Alice’s smile froze for a fraction of a second. She quickly recovered, offering a polite “Congratulations,” and leaned in to kiss Bryan.
What was that? Disappointment? Uncertainty?
Before I could dwell on it, her partner, Richard, stood up, tapping his glass with a spoon.
“Well, since we’re sharing news,” he began, grinning from ear to ear, “Alice and I have an announcement too. We’re engaged!”
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Bryan clapped enthusiastically, and I joined in.
Two engagements in one evening? This is unexpected.
But the surprises didn’t stop there. As the conversations unfolded, it became clear that Alice and I had chosen the same date for our weddings.
My dream venue in New York was already booked, but Alice admitted she’d always imagined her wedding there, too. She hadn’t been able to secure the booking in time.
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“I guess I’ll have to figure something else out,” she said wistfully.
Bryan, ever the peacemaker, leaned over and whispered, “Maybe we can work something out?”
He suggested that I give up the venue and move our wedding date. The request stung, but I couldn’t bear the thought of creating a rift between us or with his mother.
“If it means that much to her, I’ll do it.”
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Alice’s reaction was immediate and heartfelt. “Thank you, Maya. I don’t know how to thank you for this.” She smiled warmly, the tension from earlier melting away. “Let’s go dress shopping together on Black Friday. My treat.”
It felt like a strange olive branch, but I nodded.
“Sure,” I said, unsure of what to expect.
After all, how bad can shopping with my future mother-in-law really be?
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***
On Black Friday, my alarm buzzed before the sun even rose. I groaned but rolled out of bed, reminding myself this was for my wedding dress. A little sacrifice was worth it.
I threw on layers to combat the cold and headed out, clutching my thermos of coffee like a lifeline.
When I arrived at the store, the line was already forming. The air was biting, and I shuffled from foot to foot, trying to stay warm. Each time someone joined the line behind me, I glanced at my phone. Alice was running late.
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Where is she?
Finally, 20 minutes before the store opened, Alice showed up. A gaggle of her friends, all laughing and clutching coffee cups, trailed behind her.
They looked far too cheerful for such an ungodly hour and judging by their rosy cheeks and bubbly chatter, I suspected a little champagne had been involved.
“Maya, you’re a lifesaver!” Alice said, patting my arm like I’d been holding the line just for them.
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Without so much as a thank you, her friends breezed past me into the prime spot I’d frozen myself for. My red nose and stiff fingers were invisible.
“Sure,” I muttered under my breath.
When the doors opened, chaos erupted. Women swarmed the racks like bees to honey, and Alice’s friends were no exception.
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“Oh, Maya, this one’s perfect for you!” one of them chirped, holding up a dress with more ruffles than a flamenco costume. Another waved a gown that sparkled so much it could double as a disco ball.
“Thanks, I’ll…think about it,” I said. I darted between the racks, trying to escape their well-meaning but overwhelming advice.
Finally, I spotted a few dresses that looked promising. Clutching them like a prize, I headed to the fitting rooms.
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The little cubicle felt like a sanctuary after the madness outside. I pulled on a dress and turned, examining myself in the mirror. It was almost perfect, but something was missing.
Then I heard Alice’s voice. It drifted through the thin fitting room walls. “She’s a nice girl, but…”
My heart sank. “But” was never a good sign.
“She announced her engagement just days ago, and now everyone’s forgotten about my proposal!” Alice’s voice dropped, but I could still hear every word. “That was supposed to be my moment! I won’t let her outshine my wedding.”
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I froze, the zipper of the dress halfway up.
Outshine her? Bryan’s happiness is all I cared about. How could she see me as a competition?
Deciding to act like nothing had happened, I stepped out and pretended to browse. That’s when I saw it! The dress. Simple yet stunning, it was everything I’d imagined.
I reached out, but just as my fingers brushed the fabric, another hand appeared. Alice’s hand.
“Oh no, you don’t,” she said with a laugh.
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“I saw it first,” I replied, gripping the hanger tighter.
“I think you’ll find I did,” Alice shot back, tugging at the dress.
The tug-of-war began. Women around us stopped to watch as we wrestled over the gown like it was the last life raft on a sinking ship.
“Let go!” I hissed, yanking harder.
“You let go!” Alice retorted, pulling with surprising strength.
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Then, with a loud “rrriiiip,” the dress tore straight down the middle. The room went silent except for the collective gasp of the onlookers. Alice and I stood frozen, each holding half of the ruined dress.
“Well,” she said finally, “I guess we’re even now.”
***
Bryan’s face paled when I told him what had happened. “You tore the dress? Together? How does that even happen?”
“It’s not the dress,” I said sharply. “It’s what she said.”
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My voice trembled, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “Alice doesn’t even care about us. She thinks I’m stealing her moment!”
Bryan ran a hand through his hair, clearly torn. “Maya, you might’ve misunderstood. Mom isn’t like that.”
“Misunderstood? I heard her, Bryan. Every word.”
The argument spiraled. He wanted to play peacemaker, but I was done. Hurt and exhausted, I took off the engagement ring and placed it gently on the kitchen counter.
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“I can’t do this right now,” I said, grabbing my coat. “I’m going back to New York.”
“Maya, wait. Don’t go. Let’s talk about this.”
But I shook my head. “I need space.”
Stepping out into the snowy driveway, I realized how quickly the storm had worsened. No taxis were running, and my phone had no service. I felt trapped, stuck in that town.
Alice appeared in the doorway. “Maya, I’ll drive you.”
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The last thing I wanted was to spend more time with her, but I didn’t have another option. Reluctantly, I climbed into her car.
We drove in silence for a while, the tires crunching over fresh snow. But then, instead of heading to the airport, Alice pulled into the parking lot of a small workshop. I frowned, glancing at her as she turned off the engine.
“This isn’t the airport,” I said.
“Just come inside, Maya. Please.”
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I unbuckled my seatbelt and followed her into the building. The smell of fabric and the soft hum of sewing machines filled the air. Then, I saw it.
There, on a mannequin, was the dress. The very one we’d ruined, now repaired and adorned with delicate embellishments—tiny beads that shimmered like morning dew and intricate lace added to the sleeves. My breath caught.
“It’s… it’s perfect,” I whispered, taking a hesitant step closer.
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Alice stood behind me, her hands clasped nervously. “I asked them to fix it. And to add a few touches. I thought… well, I thought it might be something you’d still want.”
I turned to her. “Alice, why would you do this?”
“Because I owe you an apology, Maya. I let my insecurities and selfishness get in the way. This wedding, this whole idea of perfection blinded me. I was so afraid of losing my happiness again that I forgot to make space for anyone else’s.”
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“You didn’t have to go this far to make it right.”
“Yes, I did,” she said firmly. Her voice softened. “You’re going to be a part of this family, and I don’t want our relationship to start on the wrong foot. You’re good for Bryan, Maya. I see that now.”
For the first time, her words felt genuine, and something inside me eased. I reached out, touching the soft fabric of the dress.
“Thank you, Alice. This means… it means a lot.”
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A small smile played on her lips. “I’m just glad it turned out okay. And you’ll look stunning in it.”
I laughed. “We’ll see if I even fit into it after all the stress-eating this week.”
Alice chuckled. It felt like the first true step toward understanding each other.
When we got back to the house, the tension had melted. We talked late into the night, and Alice suggested something unexpected.
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“Why not share the day? Two families becoming one. Isn’t that what this is all about?”
It felt right. Bryan’s face lit up when we told him, and we toasted to a new beginning. That night, I realized perfection wasn’t about venues or dresses. It was about the people who shared the moments with you.
Alice and I became family. And that was the greatest gift of all.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: I thought I had crafted the perfect lie—charming stories of rural life that my boss adored. But when he decided to visit for Christmas, I faced a nightmare: exposing my truth or pulling off the biggest act of my life. I never expected what happened next. Read the full story here.
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.
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