A Little Happy Meal Toy, a Memory of Papa, and an Unexpected Kindness

A friend and reader recently reached out to me with a question I wasn’t expecting: which McDonald’s toy had I written about in Because of Maddie: The Girl Who Said, “ENOUGH”?

I told him it was the fries, the little transformable Happy Meal toy that I could snap back and forth, listening to the click of the plastic.

Then he surprised me with one.

So many years after that moment in my childhood, someone who had read my story put that little toy back into my hands.

I want to explain why that means so much to me. Because to understand the gift, you have to understand the child who once held it.

The Moment Behind the Toy

In Because of Maddie, there is a scene where Papa takes us to McDonald’s after a painful experience. I order a chicken nugget Happy Meal. Something familiar and uncomplicated at a time when almost everything inside me felt difficult.

One of the details that matters most to me in that scene is how Papa responds.

He doesn’t tease me for ordering a kid’s meal as a teenager. He doesn’t question it or make me feel embarrassed. He simply orders it.

When you are a child carrying things no child should have to carry, being allowed to do something ordinary can mean more than people realize. You can become so used to watching other people’s moods, anticipating what might happen, and trying to protect yourself that there is very little room left to just be a kid.

Papa gave me that room.

I didn’t have to defend wanting a Happy Meal. I didn’t have to explain why something familiar felt comforting. In that small moment, my request was enough.

And inside the meal was a little toy.

Something to Hold On To

I kept snapping the toy back and forth between its shapes.

Click. Click. Click.

That sound gave me something to focus on while I ate. The movement gave my hands something to do. When my thoughts and feelings were too much, there was this small thing right in front of me that I could touch, move, and hear.

I didn’t have the words for grounding then. I wasn’t thinking about coping strategies or trying to explain what was happening in my body.

I was a child finding something that helped.

Sometimes that is what survival looks like. A familiar object. A repeated movement. A sound you can return to. Something small enough to fit in your hand when everything else feels too big.

That toy didn’t erase what had happened. But it helped me get through the next few minutes. It helped me focus on eating, breathing, and being there with Papa.

Those minutes mattered.

The Details We Carry

When I write about my childhood, I include details like this because they are part of the story, too.

The painful experiences matter, but so do the things that helped me endure them. The dolls I held. The music I listened to. The people who showed up. The small moments when I could feel a little less afraid.

And the little plastic toy from a Happy Meal.

An object like that can look ordinary to someone who doesn’t know its history. For the person who needed it, it can hold the memory of getting through something hard.

It can also hold the memory of who was there. For me, that toy is connected to Papa. To his quiet kindness. To the way he could care for me without making me explain every need or feeling.

When I remember that meal, I remember a child trying to steady herself. I also remember a grandfather making space for her to do that.

A Reader Who Remembered

That is why my friend’s question meant something before I even knew there would be a gift. He had noticed. He had read that scene and remembered the toy. Out of all the details in the book, he reached out to ask about this one.

Sharing your story can feel vulnerable. You put deeply personal memories into words, send them into the world, and hope people will understand what you are trying to tell them. You don’t always know which moments will stay with a reader.

Then someone asks a question like this, and you realize that a small piece of your history stayed with them.

When he surprised me with the fries toy, the thoughtfulness of it reached far beyond the object itself. He had listened to my answer and taken the time to find something connected to a memory I had trusted readers with.

That kind of care means so much.

The Same Toy, Another Memory

Having one again brings the past and present together in a way I never expected.

The childhood memory is still there. So is the reason I needed that steady little click. But now there is another memory connected to it: a friend reaching out, paying attention, and surprising me with something meaningful.

I love that both kinds of kindness can exist in this story.

Papa’s kindness helped me then. My friend’s kindness reaches me now.

So many years separate those moments, but this little toy connects them. It reminds me of how much it matters when someone notices a need, remembers a detail, or offers care without asking for anything in return.

To my friend: thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for reading my book with such care. Thank you for asking about the fries. And thank you for understanding that a little Happy Meal toy could mean so much.

You gave me something I never expected to hold again.

And you gave an old, tender memory a new moment of kindness. ❤️

🛡️ Survivor Support & Safety Awareness

Healing is emotional, but feeling physically safe matters, too.

That’s why I’m proud to continue partnering with Hootie Personal Safety Alarms as part of my advocacy work. I carry my Hootie with me in everyday life, on walks, outings, and anywhere having an extra layer of security can bring a little more peace of mind.

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Visit GetHootie.com and use code JANE for 10% off.

Safety. Support. Empowerment. One Hootie at a time.

💜 Continue the Journey

The Survivors’ Anthem Series is more than a collection of songs. It’s a journey through survival, healing, memory, resilience, and reclaiming the pieces of ourselves that trauma tried to take away.

And now, that journey continues in more ways than ever!

🎶 Listen to the Survivors’ Anthem Series

Follow the playlists on Spotify and YouTube and discover the songs that have helped give survivors strength, comfort, courage, and a voice.

📖 Read Because of Jane

Winner of an International Impact Book Award, Because of Jane tells the story that helped inspire so much of the advocacy behind this series, a story of childhood trauma, survival, the comfort objects that help us endure, and finding a voice after silence.

📖 Continue the story with Because of Maddie: The Girl Who Said, “ENOUGH!”

Available now! Continue where Because of Jane left off, but this time, experience the story through Maddie’s eyes.

Her fear.

Her memories.

Her resilience.

Her voice.

Both books in the Because of Series are available now on Amazon, and Because of Maddie can also be ordered through your local bookstore.

🧵 Join The Jane Project

Everyone has a Jane.

Maybe yours was a doll, a stuffed animal, a song, a book, a person, a place, or something else entirely. The Jane Project invites survivors to share the people and things that helped them feel safe, seen, heard, or strong when they needed it most.

Because healing doesn’t happen in only one way.

Sometimes it begins with a story.

Sometimes it begins with a song.

Sometimes it begins with finally saying, “Enough.”

And sometimes, the thing that helped one survivor make it through becomes the thread of hope another survivor needs to keep going.

Together, we heal. Together, we speak. Together, we rise.