I know everyone is tired of the political ads and campaigns going on right now so I’m just going to go ahead and add one more.
I need to before it’s too late.
I have less than one year to plead my case.
Less than one year until I have to send my little ones off to school with lunches packed.
Before the hysteria begins I would like to ask that the competition to create the most ridiculously creative lunch for your elementary schooler please end.
Put down that knife that is slicing grapes into one-sixteenths to make the exact replica of fish scales atop a see of pureed blueberries.
That utensil shaving the Little Mermaid’s hair out of an orange? Accidentally drop it in the whirring garbage disposal.
Don’t set foot in your car at midnight in search of raisins the size of Spongebob’s pupils.
There are some of us who are lucky to cut the crust off of a turkey sandwich without losing a finger.
Those who can’t open a box of Uncrustables without a barrage of paper cuts.
Think of our children. Our children who must sit next to yours as he sips from his drink box made of legos, his sandwich coordinating with the classroom theme of the week and his lunch box handsewn, embroidered and given a rustic finish.
They will leave our safe arms with perfectly mediocre visions of cheese sticks and pre-packaged fruit snacks and come home with shoulders hunched, heads held low, whimpering for the recreation of the second scene in Toy Story in cold cuts by the next day at 7 am.
So please, take one less trip to the grocery store, five less hours in the kitchen and enjoy waking up 5 seconds before the bus arrives like the rest of us who can barely remember to label the crayons and glue.
It’s for your good, our good and the good of children everywhere. Think of how many loaves of bread could be recycled from the discarded shavings of your built to scale Cinderella Castle. You could feed two ducks and a squirrel with those remains.
Back away from your paring knife, color-coordinated cupcake tins and drafting table, let’s return to the jelly-soaked-through-the-bread sandwiches of our youth.
It’s the least we can do. Truly, the least.
Or would that be sending money for hot lunch?? *Gasp*
Let’s not disappoint the little people (who cook on the floor in winter pajamas, at 5 am).
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