Old mom, new tricks
If you add
up the ages of all of my children, I’ve been a mom for almost 38 years, which
is almost as long as I’ve been on this Earth. You might think that I have most
things figured out. I know I did. But as it turns out, you’re never too old a
mom to learn new tricks.
This tip
came from the brilliant family of the child who has the locker next to my
oldest daughter. Both freshmen in high school, one day my daughter saw him pull
a girly lunchbox out of his bookbag. There must have been an exchange of
expressions and the explanation followed.
“I forgot
my lunchbox at school yesterday so my mom packed my lunch in this princess
Lunchbox of Shame. I’m never going to forget it at school again.”
Upon hearing
this story, my eyes got wide and I probably stood there, mouth agape, wondering
why I hadn’t thought of this long, long ago. While our children are pretty good
at remembering to bring their lunch boxes home, they are terrible at remembering
to unpack them. We’re those weird “save the Earth” people who pack everything
in reusable containers and have no-waste lunches, so the unpacking of
containers is kind of important. It becomes even more important over an
extended weekend when I unzip the forgotten box early in the morning to find 4
day old strawberries that could double as a science project. I don’t make the
kids do many chores, and throwing plastic containers in the sink after I’ve
done all the packing isn’t too much to ask, right?
Needless to
say, I immediately wanted to adopt this marvelous parenting tool. It was
enforced that very day. “Don’t let this happen to you!” I stated, and sat back
to wait and see what would happen.
It only
took a couple of days for someone to forget and in my great excitement of
packing a princess lunchbox, I was defeated on two counts. One, I couldn’t find
the lunchbox I was planning on using. And two, it was my youngest daughter who
would be accepting of said lunchbox, totally defeating the purpose of
humiliation and oh yeah, a life lesson.
So instead
she was awarded her salami sandwich in a brown paper bag. But this was no
ordinary bag. It contained special messages in large, bold print. On one side,
“I didn’t unpack my lunchbox and my mom forced me to use this paper bag and a
beautiful tree died for no reason at all. I’m so sorry I was forgetful, little
tree.” And on the other side, “I didn’t unpack my lunchbox and am forced to
carry the Brown Sack of Shame.”
On the
bottom I wrote, “P.S. I still love you. Love, Mom.”
The next
day, everyone unpacked their lunchboxes the second they walked in the door.
This scheme of mine might not work for long, but that’s OK with me. I’ve got
the next Brown Sack of Shame text all ready to go.
Love, Mom.
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