When I arrived at the check out point with a trolley overflowing with snacks, and two little girls thinking it was Christmas, the cashier raised her eyebrows and asked, "Party?"
"Eh, no," I mumbled and then did my best not to make eye contact with her throughout the rest of the transaction.
I could have sworn she was tutting under her breath.
This morning I packed the girls lunches for them while they were eating their (extremely humdrum) breakfast of cornflakes. Air-Bear managed to eat her bowl one boring flake at a time.
Their eyes lit up when they saw what I was putting into their boxes... guava roll, rice cakes with Bovril, dried mango strips, peanuts and raisins and a finger biscuit each (can't be that unhealthy if we give them to babies to teeth on, right?). I slipped in a puffy flower sticker each while they weren't watching.
Ok, ok, so maybe I went overboard a little, but my guilty conscience feels much better with its Band Aid of overcompensation plastered neatly over my prosaic lunch box potential.
As I was packing up, the next obstacle crossed the path. The clasp on T-bird's lunch box is malfunctioning. The lid just wouldn't stay down!
"I think Air should have this box," she suggested as I wrestled with the plastic repository.
"It's a perfectly fine lunch box," I grunted, giving up and heading off to find some Scotch tape to tape the receptacle shut.
And so the kids have been safely deposited at their respective schools, both with lunch boxes brimming with enticing goodies, one taped up like a birthday present.
I am left to pack away the collected stash of treats (and possibly sample the fruit dainites - DAMMIT!! - this is why I don't want to have these yummy things in the house!!!) and to draw up next week's shopping list: Item 1: Lunch Box.
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