While I was at work, my two-year-old daughter called me and begged me to come home immediately: “Daddy is hurting me, please come home”; I was shocked when I found out what was really happening in our house 😱😲
It was already nine in the evening, and I was still sitting over my report — the deadline was approaching, my boss was nervous, and I had to stay late. My daughter had stayed home with her father. I was sure they were having a perfectly fine evening… until the phone rang.
On the screen — my husband’s number. I picked up, expecting his usual “When are you coming home?”, but instead I heard a thin, trembling little voice:
— Mommy, it’s me…
— Yes, sweetheart, what happened? Why aren’t you asleep? And where is Daddy?
— Mommy, he’s in the bathroom. I don’t have much time…
A cold shiver ran down my spine.
— Not much time for what? What’s going on?
— Mommy, please come home quickly. Daddy is hurting me. Please, save me…
I immediately started gathering my things, trying to close my bag with one hand and find my keys with the other.
— Can you tell me what exactly he did?
— Yes…
She took a deep breath, as if preparing to reveal something terrible. And then she said something that left me absolutely stunned 😱😲 Continued in the first comment 👇👇

— Mommy… he made me eat broccoli… You know how much I hate broccoli! I drank five glasses of water so I wouldn’t taste that horrible flavor!
I froze. And then… I just couldn’t hold it in.
I burst out laughing.
— Oh, my poor little girl… What else did this “monster” Daddy do?
— He made me take a bath! A bath, Mommy! And I don’t want to take a bath!
— What a tragedy, — I said, laughing.
— And… he said I have to go to sleep. And I don’t want to sleep until you come home.
I nearly fell off my chair from laughing. I pictured her wrapped in a blanket as if she’d survived some global catastrophe.
Suddenly, I heard footsteps in the background.
— Who are you talking to? — I heard my husband’s voice.
— No one! — she blurted out quickly and hung up.
After such a dramatic finale, I had no choice but to drive home and “rescue” my poor daughter… from broccoli, a bath, and going to bed early.
Sometimes I think she has real acting talent. And sometimes — that she simply inherited my sense of drama.
But I’ll admit: I drove home with a huge smile on my face.









