Young children have a unique way of speaking the truth without realizing it. So, when my five-year-old daughter, Lisa, picked up her father’s phone and said, “I can’t keep secrets from Mommy,” I froze in place. Without thinking, I grabbed the phone, and what I heard next unraveled everything.
I’m still trying to figure out whether I’m in a nightmare or if it’s just my anxiety taking over. Maybe it’s both. If I don’t get this off my chest, I feel like I’ll crack.
My name is Laura. I’m 35, married to Mark for six years, and we have a daughter, Lisa, who is five. She’s everything to me. Smart, inquisitive, and always imitating me—whether it’s pretending to talk on the phone, scribbling down grocery lists on my old phone, or typing away as though she’s running her own little business. It was always charming. Always.
That is, until last Friday night.
Mark had left his phone on the kitchen counter while he went to shower upstairs. I was busy in the laundry room, sorting through socks and little pajamas, when Lisa rushed in, holding his phone with both hands.
“Mommy! Daddy’s phone is ringing!”