Can Libraries Provide Free Books For Kindergartners?

​"Pirmahan mo ang divorce papers at umalis ka na. Sofia is back, and I no longer have a use for a substitute like you." ​Sa loob ng isang taon, naging masunurin at mapagmahal na asawa si Aria kay Xander Black—ang mailap at ruthless na billionaire. Ngunit sa gabi ng kanilang anniversary, hindi regalo kundi papeles ng paghihiwalay ang ibinigay nito sa kanya. Itatapon lang pala siya na parang basura dahil nagbalik na ang babaeng tunay na mahal ni Xander. ​May lihim si Aria. Hawak niya ang isang positive pregnancy test, ngunit nang makita ang lamig sa mga mata ni Xander, pinili niyang manahimik. Hindi deserve ng lalaking ito ang kanyang anak. Nang walang salita, pinirmahan ni Aria ang papeles at naglaho nang parang bula. ​Pagkalipas ng Limang Taon. ​Bumalik si Aria sa bansa, hindi na bilang isang api, kundi bilang isang matagumpay at sikat na fashion designer. Ngunit ang mas ikinagulat ni Xander sa kanilang muling pagkikita ay ang batang lalaking kasama ni Aria—isang "mini-version" ni Xander na may parehong matatalim na kulay-abong mga mata. ​Nag-apoy ang galit at pag-aari sa dibdib ni Xander. "Kaninong anak ito, Aria?" mariing tanong niya habang isinasandal ang babae sa pader. ​Ngumiti lang si Aria nang may pait. "Anak ko siya, Mr. Black. At ikaw? Isa ka lang estranghero sa amin." ​Gagawin ni Xander ang lahat para bawiin ang kanyang tagapagmana, ngunit sapat ba ang yaman at kapangyarihan niya para muling makuha ang pusong dati niyang winasak? Isang bilyonaryo ang luluhod—mapatawad lang ng babaeng kaisa-isang minahal niya.

The moms at the company post about me online, claiming the free daycare I provide for their kids is a "prison" and a vile tactic to force them to work overtime. What they don't know is that the daycare was set up with imported equipment and staffed by internationally trained professionals. It costs nearly eight thousand dollars a month per child to operate. The internet curses me out, calling me a show-off and disgusting capitalist. So I grit my teeth and send out a company-wide announcement. "To support everyone's desire to handle their own childcare, the company has decided to close the free daycare program. Effective immediately, it will be replaced with a childcare benefit. Eligible mothers will receive 200 dollars a month." As soon as the notice goes out, the moms panic. They crowd outside my office, begging me not to shut it down.

A parent in my son's preschool group chat tagged me out of nowhere. "Theo's dad, your son's lunches always look pretty nice. Starting tomorrow, pack one for my daughter too." "I'm not asking for free food. I'll give you ten dollars a day. That adds up. You can make a little extra on the side." I stared at the message, almost laughing from how absurd it was. My son has severe food sensitivities and a fragile stomach. Every ingredient in his meals is specially sourced, and a single lunch costs far more than five hundred dollars to prepare. And this man thought ten dollars could buy it? I replied with two words: "Not happening." The next day, my son came home crying. His lunch had been taken by another child, and the teacher had scolded him for being selfish. Fine. Since they wanted to push this far, I would show them exactly how far I could go.

On the seventh day after my daughter goes missing, I kidnap an entire kindergarten. I lock away all 27 students and two teachers in a classroom. I tell the police that if they can't find my daughter, I will kill a kid every 30 minutes. The principal falls to her knees, wailing and begging, "It's not my fault that your daughter is missing. Why should other children pay for it?" I glance at my watch. "29 minutes left. Find her." I know she's in this kindergarten.

I donated 45 million to the city's best kindergarten, but my daughter failed the enrollment interview. She was a polymath. Furious, I demanded an explanation from admissions. She hurled an assessment file at my face. "Your daughter's brilliant, but you're the exact opposite! You're dead last among the parents!" She continued, "The others have tech domes! You're nothing but a regular Ivy League graduate! Your degree's worth about as much as toilet paper!" The other teachers laughed as well. "If we admit her daughter, it's going to look bad on the other kids. She can't take that responsibility." "Yeah, I can't believe she's demanding an explanation from Ms. Johnson. Her husband is the kindergarten's biggest stakeholder. He can make sure her daughter has nowhere to go." The admission teacher shoved me away. With disdain in her eyes, she said, "Out of my sight if you know what's good for you. My husband is picking me up in his Rolls-Royce. His car plate alone is worth more than your life! It's lucky 777! Only one in Georgeport!" Three sevens? That was my husband's car. I laughed mirthlessly and texted my husband. "I had no idea you had another wife behind me."

I had just gotten home when a parent in my son’s class group chat erupted: [Ms. Zinn, what kind of place are you running? Do you let just any random stray off the street become a teacher?] [My daughter came home, grabbed two forks, and tried to jump off the balcony. She said it was Miss Never who told her to!] The homeroom teacher panicked and denied it at once, insisting there was no such person as Miss Never at the kindergarten. She even posted the official teaching schedule in the chat to prove it. On the security footage, there was not a single trace of this so-called Miss Never. However, later, my son whispered to me in secret, “Mom, Miss Never is an old lady with a cat’s face.” “She says only kids can see her.”