Zoey starts her new Spanish immersion school tomorrow. And I am a nervous wreck. Even though the instructions sent to me by the school specifically instruct me not to be “anxious”. Apparently my anxiety will create anxiety for my child and her first day will be ruined. RUINED! Well, the “ruined” part may involve some interpretation on my part. Just a wee bit. As in total fabrication. But it could happen. I could ruin Zoey’s first day in many ways. We could get there too early. Or too late. I could drive in the wrong side of the circular driveway. I could take too long to get her out of the car. I could forget the camera, Zoey’s back pack, and her lunch. Oh my god, her lunch! I am a quivering pool of anxiety just about the lunch. The lunch box to be exact.
There was a lunch “box” incident at the school Zoey has been attending this summer. Yes, my child was attending a morning day care program 2 days a week and did not (gasp!) own a lunch box. A few weeks ago I walked in the door to pick Zoey up and saw her sitting at a table eating oyster crackers and raisins. Which was not what I packed her for lunch. The (new and young) teacher rushed over to me and gushed, “OhmygoshIamsosorry! I couldn’t find Zoey’s lunch box! Did you forget it?”
“No, I put it in the fridge . . . But that’s OK, she can eat lunch when we get home.”
“I checked the fridge,” the teacher insisted, “I didn’t see a lunch box in there.”
Now may be a good time to point out that when I see other kids arriving and leaving the program, they all seem to be banging a lunch box against their little legs: Tinkerbell, Thomas the Train, Spider Man, Dora the Explorer. So when the teacher said she didn’t see a lunch box in the fridge she was technically right. “Well,” I began, “Zoey’s lunch is in a . . . a . . plasticlwalmartbag.” I said this last part fast and quiet. And I might have had my hand over my mouth.
“What? Her lunch is in a what?” The young teacher flipped her blond hair.
I sighed. “The lunch is in a bag. A plastic bag.”
There was a pause, the teacher couldn’t even look me in the eye for a moment, and then she said, “Ooooh. I guess I didn’t think there would be a lunch in . . . that.” I grabbed the lunch, stuffed it in Zoey’s very stylish backpack from the Kennedy Space Center (thanks Gramme and Pop-pop!) and got the heck out of there. If I had a tail it sooo would have been tucked between my legs.
So anyway, I vowed that Zoey would start her new school with a new lunchbox. And she will. It’s purple with psychedelic cats on the front. At least she didn’t pick the princesses. Well, actually, she did . . . but I told her we didn’t have the right “special” money for that one. And yes, you may totally steal that line for your own use. You’re welcome.