MY DAUGHTER AND I HAVE A “CODE WORD” — WHAT HAPPENED YESTERDAY IS WHY YOU SHOULD CONSIDER HAVING ONE WITH YOUR LOVED ONES TOO.
My mom shared this advice with me long ago, but it was only yesterday that I fully understood the importance of passing it on.
The concept is straightforward: you and your child choose a secret word they can use if they feel uncomfortable or unsafe and can’t communicate that openly, whether it’s at a sleepover they want to escape or at an event that seems off.
Yesterday, I hurried to pick up my daughter from her dad’s place after she casually mentioned the code word during a phone conversation, and I felt compelled to share this knowledge so that your loved ones can also stay safe.
There are certain guidelines regarding what the “code word” should be. First and foremost, never use ⬇️
My little girl often spends weekends with her father, but what transpired this time had my heart racing.
Our daughter requested to speak with me on the phone and used our code word, signaling that she needed a way out.
Here’s why having code words is a vital strategy for keeping our kids safe.
When I was young, my mother taught me to use a code word if I found myself in trouble and couldn’t speak up.
As an adult, I decided to pass this excellent method on to my little girl.
I thought she could use it to escape sleepovers or uncomfortable situations.
However, I never anticipated that she would need to use it so soon.
Yesterday seemed like any other day, or so I believed. While I was in my kitchen, finishing my evening coffee, my phone rang.
It was my ex-husband, Dave. Our once warm and affectionate relationship had become strained over the years.
Divorce has a way of doing that, and while we tried to maintain a civil relationship for the sake of our daughter, Amy, things were often tense.
“Hey, Claire,” Dave’s voice came through, a bit hesitant.
“Amy wants to talk to you. She’s been asking to share about her day since she arrived.” This surprised me. Amy typically enjoyed her weekends with her dad and rarely called during those visits.
“Oh, sure, put her on,” I responded, striving to keep my voice steady. The fact that Dave sounded off added to the unease settling in my stomach.
“Hi, Mom!” Amy’s voice was cheerful as always, but there was something in her tone that I couldn’t pinpoint. This was unusual, so I tuned in closely.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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