What A Mom Can Do

I stood at the door of the kindergarten's activity room, clutching a piece of fruit candy. Through the glass window, my daughter Nancy was clinging to the small table, her little face as pale as paper. This is her third hypoglycemia episode this week. The doctor kept stressing that sugar must be given immediately, not waiting until she faints. I gently pushed the door open, stepping as lightly as I could. Nancy heard the noise and slowly lifted her head, but the light was gone from her eyes. "Mom..." Her voice trembled. She propped herself up on the table, trying to stand, but wobbled. I hurried over, crouched beside her, peeled the candy, and stuffed it into her mouth. "Hold it in your mouth, swallow slowly— you'll feel better soon." I touched her forehead, and my palms were drenched in sweat. Just as I stood up straight, someone suddenly yanked my arm hard. I turned around and saw a woman wearing a light blue kindergarten uniform, with a badge that read "Mandy Cooper" on her chest. "What's wrong with you?" Her brows knitted tightly, her voice sharp and cutting, "Don't you know the kindergarten rules? At this time, you're not allowed to give kids sweets!" I explained patiently, "Teacher, my daughter has hereditary hypoglycemia—she absolutely needs sugar now, or she'll faint." "What's all this fuss about hypoglycemia or not?" Mandy Cooper shook off my arm, her tone sharper, "It's because you parents spoil her!" "The kid wants candy and just makes excuses, doesn't follow any rules at all!" A flash of anger shot through me, but I held it back: "This isn't an excuse. It's the doctor's orders. Her medical record is with the kindergarten nurse—you can go check." "What exactly am I checking?" Mandy Cooper sneered coldly and reached out to snatch the candy box from my hand. "The kindergarten's rules are rules—I say no eating, so no eating!" I instinctively hid the candy box behind me, but she didn't grab it; instead, she turned and snatched the juice from the table. Before I could react, the cold liquid splashed all over my face. The juice dripped down my hair and into my collar—cold and sticky. The kids around us screamed in shock, and Nancy started crying. I wiped the juice off my face, my anger boiling over: "What do you think you're doing?" "Doing what?" Mandy Cooper put her hands on her hips, wearing a proud smirk: "Just making sure you remember—you have to listen to me here!" I stared at her, speaking slowly and clearly: "Do you know who I am?" Mandy Cooper rolled her eyes. "I don't care who you are! Even if you were the king of heaven, you still have to follow our kindergarten's rules!" "I'm an investor in this kindergarten." I pulled out my ID from my bag and slammed it down on the table. "Now tell me, who gave you the authority to treat me and my child like this?" Mandy Cooper's face instantly turned pale. She stared at the ID for what felt like forever, her lips moving but not a word came out. Nancy was still crying, so I quickly picked her up and gently patted her back. "Don't be afraid, Mommy is here." I looked down at my daughter's trembling little body, my heart aching with pain and anger.