What does a mother feel when they call from kindergarten and ask to pick up the child early?

If you think about it, life is full of all sorts of interesting incidents, which can even be told in good company. Today's story is about that. Our reader shares how picture Made her nervous. But don't worry, it ended well!



By the way, if you have something to share, write to us and we will publish your story. It doesn’t matter what character it is. The main thing is to share your thoughts with other people.

My daughter is 5 years old and we all love her. A cheerful energetic girl without a front tooth (milk, fell out) and two pigtails. They say that with the first child babysitting in a special way. The first experience of education, I want to do everything correctly. No mistakes. And you know? There's something about it.



Despite some distance from our area, we sent Lisa to a private kindergarten with good reviews. There, children are treated in a special way, and they do not need to eat nasty semolina every day and listen to the cries of tired teachers who would already retire well to go.

Our garden is newly built, all shining, many windows, toys. Great furniture, young staff. Everyone walks, smiles, no negativity. Lizka, I think, will grow up a positive child with such upbringing. We're all like that in the family, no matter what.

So I'm at work when the phone rings. I pick up the phone and Lisa's caregiver tells me that I need to pick her up a little earlier than usual today. We need to talk together. Because "the case is very serious and does not tolerate urgency." He doesn’t want to say anything else, just in person.



Well, I'm gonna ask the chief early and go to the garden. There's already a lot of stupid thoughts in my head. Maybe hit her or smashed something. Maybe she had a fight with someone, though it's unlikely. But children are growing so fast and so cruel. Maybe someone hurt her?

I'm coming. Parking. I go straight to the teacher to ask her what happened. She, almost silently, leads me and my daughter to a separate office to a psychologist. Oh, this is so modern! Kindergarten psychologist. I’m probably tired of Rorschach testing... But nothing. Break through.



So we're standing, so the three of us: me, Lisa and the teacher in front of this psychologist. A man digs through a thick folder for a long time and finally pulls out a children's drawing on which 3 strange figures are scrawled - two higher, one lower. It turns out that my daughter drew this picture, and it's the center of all my problems today.

The two figures above are the daughter and the father. And one lower is our cat, Tom. Everything is done in the technique of “primitivism”, and it does not work out something. It's not a problem, I know my daughter doesn't like to paint. “But here,” the good psychologist points his finger, “you are not there.” The child does not want to see you and does not want to see you.

Then two grown-ups start to scold me. Like, I should spend more time with the child, be more affectionate with her and other things. That they have a high-end institution, and they can't leave it. I'm naturally puzzled. I don't speak up and paint myself with shame.



There is a minute pause, I with frozen words in front of my eyes ask Lisa: Daughter, is this true? Why didn't you draw me with everyone else, I want to be there, too. Maybe I hurt you in some way.

Lisa, whose eyes have also turned round during this time, answers me with all her childish honesty and spontaneity: “No, Mammy, what are you doing?” I just can't draw. She painted herself from the beginning, then Dad. I'm looking at this. Even Tom didn't want to draw. And you're so beautiful, so I'd ruin it. I wanted to throw the paper away, but they took it from me.

Now I, rising up, without blinking, look straight into the eyes of "respected kindergarten workers." They somehow slipped and avoided looking.

“And what about the tooth of the child, where he hit, certainly not us?” – tries to break the silence of the teacher. My answer is, it's milk, it's gone. I know she actually knew it better than I did, but she couldn't just keep quiet. I dress my daughter to go home.



Already at home, after the arrival of my husband, I share with him today’s events in kindergarten and shout that my daughter’s legs will no longer be there. But Lizke likes the garden... Anyway, I've calmed down a little, but now I'm not going to them again. We agreed, let her dad take her, he certainly no one will complain about the poor upbringing of the child. He works for the police.