Caller ID: The Elementary School. I’ll answer this call every time.

“This is Tricia…”

“Hi, Tricia. First of all, everything is okay.”

Thank you. Because that’s definitely the ‘first of all’ I needed to hear.

“I’m just calling to see if you wanted Tyler to buy a lunch today.”

Oh, dear. What kind of storytelling is happening over there? He knows I packed him a lunch. He put it in his backpack. Is he trying to swindle his way to pizza instead?

“Well, I packed one for him –”

“Yes, I peeked into his lunchbox. I saw the yogurt and the cheese, and I thought, ‘well, that’s kind of a lunch,’ so I wondered if that’s what you want him to have today.”

That’s “kind of a lunch,” she said. She was so kind about it. She was genuinely checking to see if I deemed such an odds-and-ends lunch acceptable.

He’s a cheese-yogurt-crackers-fruit kind of kid. Anything else? In the garbage.

(If you’re interested, there were also apple dippers and a CapriSun and a Rice Krispy treat. At least there were when I zipped the lunchbox closed.)

I’m thinking of sending a footlong sub sandwich to school with him tomorrow.

He would probably trade it with a classmate. “Here, I’ll give you this for a slice of cheese.”

This is today’s reason why I won’t be nominated for Mother of the Year: I send my child to school with “kind of a lunch.”

P.S. She really wasn’t mean or judgmental. She was truly kind and helpful. The whole conversation was just too bloggable.

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