Couplea years ago, Joey received a fantastic care package from his mom for the first day of school. Inside, it contained a Spiderman lunch box. Joey was like, HOLY COW THROW AWAY MY OLD LUNCH BOX! and he’s never looked back.
Well, about six months ago I decided I should probably bring up the fact that the lunch box has started smelling horrible and the lining is torn in several places.
It went over about as well as if I had suggested he cut off his left arm. “I’m not getting a new lunch box,” he told me. “This is the lunchbox I want.”
So I cleaned it out and tried not to breathe whenever I’d pack his lunch. (Yes, I pack his lunch for him just about every day. He likes it.) Every time it would smell exactly like this really cool pink Lillian Vernon lunch box I had when I went to INCA for second and third grade. I loved it with all my heart because it had two little pockets on the front (so cute!) and I think Mom let me pick it out from the catalog. But every day that thing would smell more and more like old bologna sandwiches and by the time Mom pulled me out to homeschool me, I never wanted to smell that lunch box again.
Please take note that I have never fed Joey a bologna sandwich and I never will, so help me.
A couple of months ago, when we were standing at The Container Store looking for hooks to hang the All-Clad measuring cups Joey got me for Valentine’s Day (we got skunked…we’re still searching for the perfect solution), Joey looked sideways at me in his sheepish fashion and suggested we have a look at the lunchboxes.
“Um, WHY?” I asked him.
“Because I think I need a new one,” he mumbled. “You’re kind of right that mine is falling apart.” And it has served its purpose well, he’s carried it every day for at least two years if not three.
We turned the corner and stood in front of the display of lunchboxes and I pointed out the kind I wanted to get for him. The black, neoprene goodness that CAN BE THROWN IN THE WASHING MACHINE! (I think this will help greatly with the smell.)
“None of these have Spiderman on them,” Joey said as he looked at the display.
“Well, no, that’s definitely true.” I’ve checked, they don’t make Spiderman neoprene lunch boxes.
“I don’t want any of these. Or can you sew a Spiderman on to one?”
I thought about it for a few minutes and told him I probably could attach a Spiderman patch to the lunchbox like I did with his laptop sleeve, but it would have to be kind of small.
Joey stood there, weighing his options, and then finally decided that he didn’t want to spend $20 on a lunchbox after all. “We can get it later,” he said.
There is a point to my story.
The point is (and I grant you that it took me awhile to get around to it) that I woke up at 35 minutes before my alarm was to go off this morning for some reason, so I got up and did kitchen stuff which included packing Joey’s lunch.
The lunchbox smelled super bad this morning, y’all.
And after I packed it and set it by the front door so he wouldn’t forget, he groggily got up and told me that he already had lunch plans for the rest of his life, basically, and he didn’t need a lunch for about, oh, two weeks.
I think I may ask him if I can get the black neoprene lunchbox now that he’s about to graduate on Saturday.
New phase of life, new lunchbox?
One that is washable?
