Sending my child to school with a lunch is a lot like paying taxes. It just has to be done in order to stay on the good side of the law.
Every morning I expend a considerable amount of energy preparing a lunch I know he will not eat. And I have to go through this exercise in futility because what kind of mother sends her child to school with no lunch? I will tell you the kind, the kind who are not afraid of the condescending looks from other moms.
My child does not eat food. Food is for lesser mortals. My child has no need of food! I sometimes see other children eating food and I say to him, “Look son! A child! Eating food! Wouldn’t you like to try this food eating thing? It’s fun!” He shakes his head at me as if to say, “Silly silly woman! I cannot be bothered with eating! I have better things to do!” My child is an air fern disguised as a boy. And that makes me a little crazy. Would it kill him to eat a cracker to make his mother happy? Is that too much to ask?
Oddly enough, the “output” seems unaffected by the lack of input, thus proving that you can indeed make something out of nothing. To put it delicately.
Sean is now in the third year of his academic career. That means I have packed approximately 540 thoughtfully prepared, appetite-inducing, visually-pleasing lunches that June Cleaver herself would be proud of. Of those 540 lunches, Sean has eaten approximately 1. And actually, he didn’t eat that lunch, he just picked at the Teddy Grahams.
And so like taxes, making lunch everyday is a constitutional obligation I must fulfill lest I suffer the wrath of the republic and the other moms. And just like my taxes, lunch will go right down the drain.