When I was a kid, my mom taught me something I never forgot: a secret code word to use if I was ever in danger and couldn’t say it out loud. It gave me a sense of control and security. As a mom myself, I passed that idea on to my daughter, Amy. I figured she might use it to escape a bad sleepover or awkward moment with friends. I never expected she’d need it for something far more serious—and much sooner than I imagined.
Yesterday started off like any other. I was winding down in the kitchen, finishing a cup of coffee, when my phone rang. It was my ex-husband, Dave. Our relationship, once full of love and laughter, had faded into tension after the divorce. We tried our best to stay cordial for Amy’s sake, though it wasn’t always easy.
“Hey, Claire,” Dave said, sounding unsure. “Amy wants to talk to you. She’s been asking for you.”
That was odd. Amy usually enjoyed her weekends with Dave and hardly ever called me while she was with him. My nerves tightened, but I kept my voice even. “Sure, put her on.”
Amy sounded cheerful enough—bright, bubbly—but something in her tone didn’t sit right. My gut told me to pay close attention.
“We went to the park yesterday,” she said, “and today I drew some pictures. I drew a dog, a tree… and I really wish I had a blue marker so I could draw blueberries.”
There it was.
“Blueberries.”
Our code word.
The one she was only supposed to use if she felt unsafe but couldn’t say so directly. My breath caught. The word we’d chosen together—just in case—was now her quiet cry for help.
I forced my voice to stay calm. “That sounds lovely, honey. You know what? I think I’ll come pick you up early, okay? Just sit tight, and don’t say anything to Dad. I’ll explain when I get there.”
“Okay, Mommy. Love you.”
“Love you too, my Amy Wamy.”
She giggled. It was the tiniest relief, but enough to give me the strength I needed. I grabbed my keys and left.
When I arrived, Dave answered the door almost instantly. He looked stressed, like he’d been pacing behind it. “Claire? I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I figured I’d pick Amy up early,” I said lightly. “Where is she?”
“In the living room. Drawing.” He paused, then added, “She told me you were coming.”
That surprised me—she was supposed to keep quiet. “Did she say why?”
“No, just that she missed you.” He seemed genuinely confused. Or was he pretending?
Amy was on the couch, hunched over a piece of construction paper. When she saw me, she leapt into my arms.
“Hi, baby,” I whispered. “Is everything okay?”
She looked at her dad, then down at her paper. Quietly, she said, “Dad’s been really on edge.”
Then louder, “I’m ready to go home now.”
Dave furrowed his brow. “On edge? I… I’ve just been stressed. Work stuff. I would never hurt her.”
And I believed that. At least, I wanted to. But the unease in Amy’s voice couldn’t be ignored.
“Thanks for letting me come early,” I said firmly. “We’ll talk later.”
Dave hesitated, then sighed. “Can I say goodbye?”
Amy gave him a quick hug, grabbed her overnight bag, and we left.
As soon as we got in the car, she burst into tears.
“He was yelling on the phone,” she sobbed. “He slammed the door really hard. It scared me. He’s never been like that before.”
I reached back and stroked her hair. “You did the right thing, Amy. I’m proud of you for using the code word.”
She sniffled. “I didn’t want him to be mad at me.”
“Sweetheart, your safety always comes first. Always.”
Later that night, after she’d gone to bed, Dave called. His voice was softer, regretful.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was having a horrible day. A contract fell through, and my boss was tearing into me. I didn’t mean to lose my temper. I didn’t realize Amy heard.”
I exhaled slowly. “She did. And she was scared enough to call me using our code word.”
He paused. “Code word?”
“Yes. Something I taught her in case she ever felt unsafe. It doesn’t mean she thinks you’re bad—it means she needed help in that moment.”
“I understand,” he said after a long silence. “I’ll talk to her. And thank you… for coming.”
The next day, Dave stopped by to take Amy out for lunch. I let her decide. She agreed—curious, hopeful. When they returned, she was smiling and holding a stuffed toy.
“He said he was sorry,” she told me. “He said grown-ups can get overwhelmed, but it’s never my fault.”
That night, as I tucked her into bed, she asked, “Mom? Can we keep using the code word even when I’m older?”
I smiled, brushing hair from her face. “Of course. Or we can pick a new one. What matters is that you always feel safe enough to tell me anything.”
“I still like ‘blueberries,’” she whispered, already drifting to sleep.
And so, ‘blueberries’ it is.
Lesson Learned:
Sometimes it’s the smallest tools—like a shared code word—that help our children feel safest. Teaching our kids how to communicate when they’re scared gives them power and trust in the people who love them most. No matter how messy or complicated life gets, we can always show up for each other—and that makes all the difference.
If this story meant something to you, consider sharing it with someone else who might benefit from it. And if you’re a parent, maybe now’s the perfect time to come up with your own code word, too.
You never know when your child might need it.