🧸 Storytime with Jack, age 3, Fueled by Emotion and Crumbs

She did it.
My mother. My snack provider. My life partner.
She smiled gently, kissed my forehead… and left me in the building of betrayal.

Daycare.

I stared at the door like a Shakespearean villain banished to exile. My face? Rage. My heart? Snackless. My hands? Sticky with defiance.

A lady said, “Hi Jack!”
I said, “I’d like to speak with your manager.”
She laughed. Bold move.

I refused to sit.
I refused to smile.
I dramatically sighed like someone in a hospital drama who just got devastating news about snack time.

Then… distraction happened.

There were dinosaurs.
There were puzzles.
There was a boy named Ethan who claimed the block tower was his, so I took one and said, “Sharing is caring,” because I heard it somewhere and it felt righteous.

There was painting. I painted “a mess.” The teacher said, “Oh wow, Jack, is this a tiger?”
I said, “It’s pain.”

Lunch came. Naps happened. A girl named Sophie tried to steal my blanket and I whispered “not today, Sophie.”

Suddenly—THE DOOR.

She appeared. My mother.
Smiling. Warm. Glowing like a human sunbeam.

I sprinted.
I sobbed.
I collapsed in her arms like an Oscar-winning toddler.

“I thought you forgot me!” I wept into her shoulder.
She hugged me and said something gentle, but I was too busy basking in relief and Cheez-It dust.

I held her hand. I whispered, “You may never leave me again.”
She laughed.
I meant it.