Had we done something to make her feel this way? The next morning, instead of scolding her, we sat down and talked. Gently, I asked why she wrote those words. She hesitated, then whispered, “I keep having scary dreams… about mean parents.”

Realizing she needed more help than we could give alone, we took her to a child therapist. Over time, her nightmares faded, replaced by laughter and security. One night, as I tucked her in, she held my hand and said, “I know you’re not like the scary parents, Mommy. You always love me.”
And I always would.