My three-year-old, who had always loved daycare, suddenly began throwing fits every morning, begging me not to leave him there. Concerned and confused, I eventually showed up unannounced—and what I discovered made my stomach turn.
The Tantrums Begin
“Please, Mommy, no!” Johnny cried, throwing himself onto the floor, screaming so loud I thought the neighbors might hear. I glanced at the clock in frustration—if he dragged this out, I’d be late for work again.
This had never happened before. For two years, Johnny happily ran into daycare without so much as a backward glance. But in the past week, he’d started clinging to me and sobbing as if I were abandoning him forever.
I’d even consulted his pediatrician, who chalked it up to a developmental phase, the so-called “terrible threes.” But deep down, I knew it wasn’t that simple.
That morning, when I snapped at him to stop, the look of raw fear in his eyes nearly broke me. Something was wrong.
I sat on the floor, pulled him into my lap, and whispered an apology. “I didn’t mean to yell, honey. Can you tell Mommy what’s going on? Why don’t you want to go anymore?”
Johnny clung to me, trembling, tears wetting my cheek. He wouldn’t answer, just whispered: “I don’t like it.”
A Strange Clue
I tried gently probing—“Are the kids being mean? Did someone hurt your feelings?”—but he stayed quiet. Finally, I promised him I’d pick him up early.
His head shot up. “Before lunch? No lunch, Mommy?” he asked with panic in his eyes.
That was the first hint. Something about lunch terrified him.
So I dropped him off, heart heavy as he walked in silently, throwing me one last pleading glance. At work, I asked my boss for time off that afternoon—thankfully, she was a mom too and understood.
But instead of picking Johnny up before lunch like I told him, I decided to arrive during lunch. I needed to see what was happening.
What I Saw Through the Window
The daycare didn’t allow parents into the kids’ dining area, but every door had a wide glass window.
When I arrived, I spotted Johnny instantly. A woman I’d never seen before sat beside him. I watched as she scooped a spoonful of mashed potatoes and shoved it toward his lips.
“Eat,” she snapped.
Johnny turned his face away, tears sliding down his cheeks.
“Open your mouth! You’re not leaving this table until your plate is clean!”
On his plate sat just a bit of mash, mince, and vegetables. I knew Johnny—he was small for his age and had never eaten much in one sitting. I never forced him at home.
When he tried to protest, she rammed the spoon into his mouth. He gagged and sputtered. That was enough.
A Mother’s Fury
I burst into the room. “Get away from my son!”
The woman’s eyes went wide. “Parents aren’t allowed in here!”
“Then maybe they should be,” I shouted, striding toward Johnny. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing? Forcing food down a child’s throat is cruel and dangerous! My son isn’t a robot—you don’t get to decide when he’s full!”
She stammered something, but I didn’t stop. “You’re teaching these kids that their bodies don’t matter, that their boundaries mean nothing. That’s how eating disorders start. That’s how children lose trust in adults. If I ever see this again, I will make sure you never work with kids again.”
The color drained from her face.
I turned to Johnny, gently wiping his mouth. “Come on, sweetheart. Mommy’s got a surprise for you.”
Aftermath
That afternoon, I talked with Johnny until he relaxed again. The next morning, there were no tantrums. Still, I made a point of “dropping by” at lunchtime several times in the following weeks.
No one ever forced him to eat again. Slowly, Johnny returned to his cheerful, playful self.
Lesson Learned
Children are not tiny machines to be controlled. They’re human beings with needs, feelings, and boundaries. Teaching them respect starts with respecting them.
And I’ll never again dismiss my child’s tears as “just a phase.”