Last week, I chastised Josh for buying lunch every day when we had plenty of food in the house to pack himself a lunch. He sat down at the dining room table and insisted that he had no idea what to pack and didn't have room to carry it.
"What do you mean?" I said, as I bustled from the refrigerator to the kitchen counter carrying things that he could take to lunch.
"See? We can make a sandwich here..." Bread, turkey and cheese on the counter.
"I can cut up some bell peppers and carrots for you here..." Veggies on the counter.
"Here's an apple and a yogurt and some crackers." And then I busied myself putting it all together into a brilliant sandwich container I'd gotten him at the Container Store.
I placed his completed container into the refrigerator for tomorrow's morning departure while he moved some items in his backpack around to make room.
The next day at lunchtime I got a call from him, profusely thanking me for the lunch. "It was delicious!" he exclaimed, "and I got compliments on my sandwich container, everyone wants to know where we got it. I loved my lunch! You're the best!"
In the afternoon, I got another email letting me know how much he loved his lunch. Apparently, it was a memorable part of the day because he mentioned it 3 more times after we'd gotten home for the evening.
"So, um, honey? Can you make me lunch again for tomorrow? It was just so delicious and I can't seem to think of things to pack."
Mmm hmmm. Its been two weeks and somehow I am getting suckered into packing lunch every evening for the next day. I can't resist the compliments, and the thought that people really are congratulating him on such a lovely, complete, and well-packed lunch.
Let's not burst my bubble, okay?