Because it was my daughter’s former babysitter.
She’d watched her a few afternoons a week the year before, before moving away for another job. I recognized her immediately. My daughter saw me in the doorway and froze. The babysitter stood up so fast she nearly dropped the little gift bag in her hand.
I asked what was going on. Before my daughter could say anything, the woman started apologizing. She explained she’d recently taken a position at the after-school program and had been excited to see my daughter again. The first week she’d brought her a small candy from a conference she’d attended. Then a toy. Then a stuffed bear when she saw one that reminded her of a game they used to play.
She kept saying she never meant any harm.
The problem was that she’d also told my daughter not to mention the gifts because she was afraid parents might think she was playing favorites. To a six-year-old, that translated into keeping a secret from Mom.
I remember feeling two things at once: relieved that it wasn’t what my imagination had been turning it into for weeks, and furious that an adult working with children thought secret gifts were somehow a good idea.
The director was called into the room. We had a long conversation that afternoon. The babysitter admitted she’d handled it badly and understood why it looked wrong. The center ended up creating a policy that staff couldn’t give individual gifts to children without parental approval.
On the drive home, my daughter kept asking if she was in trouble.
She wasn’t.
What stuck with me was something she said later that night.
“I didn’t like keeping the secret,” she told me. “I just didn’t want anyone to be sad.”
That was the moment I realized she’d been carrying the worry the whole time by herself.