I taught my daughter this wonderful strategy as an adult. I thought she might utilize it to avoid awkward hangouts or sleepovers. But I never thought she’d need it so quickly.
So yesterday was normal—or so I thought. My phone rang as I finished my evening coffee in the kitchen. Dave was my ex-husband. Over time, our once-warm connection had deteriorated.
Things were stressful while we sought to have a civil relationship for our daughter, Amy, due to divorce. “Hey, Claire,” Dave said hesitantly. “Amy wants to chat. She wants to tell you about her day since she arrived.”
This surprised me. Amy adored sleepover weekends with her dad and seldom phoned me. “Oh, sure, put her on,” I said, attempting to speak clearly. The fact that Dave sounded odd further heightened my discomfort.
“Hi, Mom!” Amy seemed happy as usual, but her speech was off. I listened carefully since this was rare for her.
“Hi, sweetie! How’s your weekend? Are you having fun? I inquired to lighten the conversation.
“Yes, it was good. We went to the park yesterday, and I sketched images this morning. I sketched a dog, tree, and… I want a blue pen to draw blueberries.”
The words slammed me! We had our code word. My heart skipped a beat, and I lost my voice. In her immature talk, Amy slipped our “password.”
I taught my kid the value of a secret word when she was little. She could use it if she felt unsafe but couldn’t say so.
“Blueberries” was our word, but I never thought she would use it.
I swallowed hard and kept cool because the term meant “get me out of here immediately.” Honey, that sounds amazing. On my way to grab you. Stay silent with your father. Talk to him when I get there.”
Was there anything more you wanted to say?
“No, that’s it,” she said, her lovely voice tinged with fear? Uncertainty? Though unsure, I knew I had to get her out of there.
“See you soon, okay?” As casually as possible.
“Okay, Mom. I love you.”
“Love you too, Amy Wamy.”
My hands trembled as I hung up the phone, hearing her laugh. My thoughts raced as I sought to unravel what transpired. Dave never made me doubt his capacity to care for our kid, yet something was awry.
I grabbed my keys, decided. Amy had to be picked up at my ex’s.
I breathed deeply and knocked when I came. I was surprised when Dave replied promptly, as if he had been waiting behind it. His shoulders were stiff and he looked nervous. “Claire? He stepped aside to let me enter, saying this was unexpected.
My pleasant grin was strained. “I decided to pick Amy up a little early,” I answered nonchalantly, my heart racing. “Where’s she?”
“She’s drawing in the living room,” he said. His voice strained. He hesitated, then replied, “She told me you’d be coming.”
My pulse accelerated. Amy vowed not to speak. “Oh? Did she explain? I asked to hide my worry.
He stroked his hair. “Not exactly. She appeared distant. Maybe something occurred at school or she’s longing home?
I sensed his perplexity and felt guilty. We’d never experienced this before. Maybe Dave didn’t understand. He may have and was pretending ignorance. Hoped for the former.
I entered the living room and discovered Amy on the couch, scribbling feverishly on construction paper. She glanced up at me with big eyes, relieved. “Mom!” she shouted, leaping to hug me.
Happy to feel her petite arms around my waist, I embraced her back. “Hey, baby,” I said gently. Is everything okay?
Amy stared at Dave, then at her drawing. “Dad’s been on edge,” she muttered, then replied, “I’m ready to go home.”
Dave knitted eyebrows. On edge? Amy, I apologize for my stress. His voice was defensive as he stated work’s been stressful. However, I would never injure you.”
I believed him—about that. Dave didn’t seem like a threat to our daughter. Something was plainly bothering Amy. My top goal as her mother was getting her to safety.
“Thanks for letting me pick her up,” I said Dave. Will call later to talk.” My courteous but forceful phrases indicated that I didn’t want to talk.
He appeared caught between protesting and not escalating in front of Amy. “All right,” he murmured, sighing in resignation. “Can I say goodbye?”
Amy nodded, stepped over, and let her father briefly embrace her. After that, she got her overnight bag and we left.
Amy started crying as we got in the car. My heart nearly broke. Sweetie, what’s wrong? Whatever happened to your dad? I asked, sitting in the driver’s seat and facing her.
She sniffled, wiping her nose with her palm. “He wasn’t his usual self. He was furious on the phone earlier. He slammed the door so hard while ranting that I was afraid. I’d never seen him that furious.”
I stroked her hair again. You were correct to tell me you were uncomfortable. You make me proud.”
Amy nods. The code term was utilized since I didn’t sure if Dad would be furious with me for phoning you. I didn’t want to admit my fear.”
It all made clear now. Dave probably yelled at a coworker or acquaintance. He may have been ranting. A parent yelling and banging doors would frighten a nine-year-old.
“Thank you for telling me,” I whispered. “Remember what we talked about as kids? Please contact me if you feel uncomfortable. You’re always right.”
She nodded again, tears diminishing. Mom, are you furious at Dad?
The steering wheel grip strengthened briefly. No, not furious. Just concerned. If your dad is struggling, you shouldn’t have to deal with it. I’ll talk to him later and work things out together, okay?
A sigh of relief came from Amy. “Okay.”
After putting Amy to bed with a long cuddle, I made tea in the kitchen. Dave called as my phone rang as I grabbed for the tea. I expected a fight, but his tone when I picked up showed contrition.
“Claire,” he said, “I’m sorry earlier. I’m having trouble negotiating a contract at work. My supervisor has never stopped hounding me. I know there’s no justification, but I lost my anger, and Amy heard it all.”
Exhaling gently relieved some of my strain. Dave, I know you’re stressed, but she’s nine. Her safety comes first. She must have thought she was in trouble to phone me using our code word.
His silence lasted a beat. He lowered his voice. “Code word?”
“Yeah. Something I taught her in case she felt frightened but couldn’t express it.” I halted. “I want you to know I trust you to care for her, but I trust her to know when she’s uncomfortable.”
Dave sighed. “I understand. Not proud of my behavior. Speak to her and apologize. I never intended to terrify her. Or you.”
My shoulders eased. “I appreciate your comment. I think we should all communicate better. We’re divorced, but Amy considers us family.”
I nearly heard him nodding in agreement. “Yeah. Thank you, Claire.”
I was surprised how peaceful the call ended. Despite the evening’s emotional roller coaster, I felt relieved.
Dave arrived early the next day. He requested lunch with Amy to chat. I hesitated but let Amy select. After hearing his explanation and seeing that he looked calmer, she agreed to clear the air.
Both appeared relieved when they returned. Amy rushed to show me a little soft toy Dave got her. “He said he was sorry and didn’t mean to yell like that,” she added. He said grown-ups feel worried, but it’s not my fault.”
I knelt to hug her. Honey, that’s good. I admire you for speaking up when you were scared.”
She grinned, holding the soft toy. “I’m glad you and Dad watch out for me.”
Dave and I smiled weakly over her head. I realized that even though our relationship had altered, we still cared most about our daughter’s well-being.
That night, Amy kissed my cheek particularly sweetly as I put her to bed. “Mom,” she whispered, “will we still use the code word when I’m older?”
My heart tugged as I touched her forehead hair. “Oh, sweetheart, we can use it forever. Or we can create one. Knowing you can always reach out is crucial. I’m always there.”
Amy closed her eyes and grinned. I enjoy ‘blueberries.’ Simple, but I’ll never forget.”
“Then ‘blueberries’ it is,” I said, kissing her forehead.
Standing at her bedroom door, I realized I was really grateful for my mom’s tiny parenting advice from years ago. The code phrase was originally something “just in case,” but it worked in real life. It reminded me that our children’s security is delicate and should never be taken for granted.
Life Lesson: Simple precautions may make a big difference. Teaching our kids to communicate safely—through a code word, a particular glance, or honest conversation—can safeguard and empower them. We can work together for our loved ones even when relationships change and life gets tough.
In the end, I was delighted Amy felt secure enough to reach out in her own manner and that Dave and I could put aside our concerns to console her. It didn’t solve all our family issues, but it was a start. We discovered that trust, communication, and love can bring us together in tough circumstances.
This narrative should inspire you to trust your intuition and communicate with loved ones. If this story touched you, please share it and like this post. You help preserve vital messages like these and motivate others to stay connected, protected, and loved.
