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.
“Hey, sweetie!
How’s your weekend going? Have you been having fun?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation light.
“Yeah, it’s been good. We went to the park yesterday, and I drew some pictures this morning.
I drew a dog, a tree, and… I wish I had a blue marker so I could draw blueberries.” Those words hit me like a ton of bricks!
There it was: our code word.
My heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, I struggled to find my voice. Among her innocent chatter, Amy had slipped in our “password.” When she was younger, I had taught her the importance of having a secret word for when she felt unsafe but couldn’t express it directly.
“Blueberries” was our word, but I never imagined she would actually use it. I swallowed hard and forced myself to stay calm because that word meant “get me out of here immediately.”
“That sounds wonderful, honey.
I’m on my way to pick you up. Please don’t say anything to your father. I’ll talk to him when I arrive.”
“Did you have anything else you wanted to tell me?”
“No, that’s it,” she replied, her tone still sweet but laced with something else; fear?
Uncertainty?
I wasn’t sure, but I knew I had to get her out of there. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” I said as casually as possible.
“Okay, Mom. Love you.”
“Love you too, my Amy Wamy.” I heard her giggle as I hung up the phone, my hands trembling.
My mind raced as I tried to figure out what could have happened.
Dave had never given me any reason to doubt his ability to care for our daughter, but something was clearly wrong.
I grabbed my keys, my mind made up. I had to go to my ex’s place and get Amy.
When I finally arrived, I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
To my surprise, it wasn’t Dave who answered but a woman I didn’t recognize. She looked at me with a mix of curiosity and annoyance.
“Can I help you?” she asked, her tone curt.
“I’m here to pick up my daughter,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice steady. “Is Dave home?”
“He just stepped out to run a few errands,” she replied, crossing her arms. “But Amy’s inside.
Who are you?”
“I’m Claire, Amy’s mom,” I said, my patience thinning. “And you are?”
The woman’s expression didn’t soften. “I’m Lisa.
Dave’s girlfriend. We’ve been living together for a few weeks now.”
I blinked, taken aback. Dave had never mentioned that he had a girlfriend, let alone that she had moved in.
Why hadn’t Amy said anything about this before? But now wasn’t the time for questions.
I needed to get my daughter out of there. “Well, Lisa, I just remembered that Amy has a doctor’s appointment early in the morning, and there are some things we need to go over before then,” I lied, forcing a smile.
“I totally forgot to mention it to Dave. I’m just going to take her, and I’ll bring her back later.”
Lisa didn’t seem convinced, but she didn’t argue either. “Fine, but I’ll let Dave know.”
“Of course,” I said, stepping past her into the house.
Amy was sitting on the couch, her small frame curled up as she colored in a book. When she saw me, her face lit up, but I could see the relief in her eyes.
“Hi, sweetie,” I said, trying to keep the mood light. “We need to get ready for the doctor tomorrow, remember?”
Amy nodded and stood up, clutching her book to her chest.
She didn’t say
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