17/08/2025
Hope your child never needs to share a secret ‘help’ code word. Wise advice shared
When I was a little girl, my mother taught me a clever trick — to use a secret "code word" if I was ever in trouble and couldn't speak freely. It was our way of silently calling for help.
Years later, as a parent myself, I passed that lesson on to my daughter, Lily. I imagined she'd use it to get out of uncomfortable sleepovers or awkward situations with friends. I never thought she'd need it for something serious — and certainly not so soon.
Yesterday started like any other day. I was at home, finishing up a cup of coffee, when my phone rang. It was my ex-husband, Mark. Though we tried to stay civil for Lily’s sake, things between us had been rocky since the divorce.
“Hey, Jenna,” he said, his voice oddly hesitant. “Lily wants to talk to you. She’s been asking since earlier.”
That caught me off guard. Lily rarely called during her weekends with her dad — she always looked forward to them. I immediately felt a flutter of concern. “Sure,” I said, masking my worry. “Put her on.”
“Hi, Mom!” Lily chirped. Her voice was upbeat, but something about her tone felt off — too rehearsed, too strained.
“Hey, sweetheart! How’s the weekend going? Having fun?”
“Yeah! We went to the park yesterday, and I drew a picture this morning. I drew a dog, a tree, and… I really wish I had a blueberry marker so I could make blueberries.”
Time stopped. That was it — the word.
“Blueberries” was our code word. The one that meant, "I need help, but I can’t talk."
I felt my blood run cold, but I couldn’t let my panic show. “Oh, honey, that sounds lovely! I’ll bring you one next time. Now put Daddy back on the phone, okay?”
As soon as Mark was back on the line, I fought to keep my voice steady. “Hey, she sounds happy,” I said, trying to sound casual. “You guys doing anything else today?”
He hesitated. “Probably just stay home. I’m making lunch soon.”
"Sounds good. Listen, I forgot to give Lily her allergy meds yesterday. I need to drop them off. I'll swing by in a bit. Shouldn’t take long."
Mark sighed. “Alright, just knock when you get here."
I hung up and immediately dialed 911.
By the time I arrived at Mark's house, two police cruisers pulled up right behind me. The officers moved quickly, and I gave them Lily's code word explanation. Within moments, they were knocking on Mark's door.
He answered, confused and irritated. "What’s going on?"
But when Lily peeked from behind him, her eyes locked on mine — wide, pleading. One of the officers gently coaxed her out. That’s when she blurted it:
"There was a man. He came last night. I don’t know him. Daddy told me to be quiet and not tell Mommy."
Everything shifted. Mark was handcuffed. The man he let into the house had been staying overnight. A criminal with a record, it turned out, someone Mark had recently met online. He thought he was harmless. He wasn't.
The investigation revealed more. The man had outstanding warrants for child endangerment. Lily had slept with her bedroom door locked — not because she was afraid of the dark, but because she'd felt unsafe.
Later, when Lily was safe in my arms, I asked her, “How did you know to use the code word?”
She whispered, “Because you said if I ever felt like I couldn’t talk, the blueberries would talk for me.”
Tears streamed down my face as I held her tighter than I ever had before.
Sometimes, the things we teach our children feel small, even silly. But that day, one word saved my daughter’s life.
And I will never hear the word "blueberries" the same way again.
Because now, it doesn't just mean a fruit. It means courage. It means trust. It means my little girl had the strength to reach for help in silence and was heard loud and clear.
Credit goes to the respective owner.
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