September 29, 2009
On Saturday afternoon, when I opened up my mailbox, there was some sort of a letter from James's elementary school.
"Huh. That's funny," I thought. "Usually they send letters home in his back pack."
I ripped open the envelope quickly, excited at the prospect of what might be inside--after all, it was far too important to send home with my irresponsible, little four-year-old. Perhaps it was the letter confirming my suspicions that James is gifted, talented, and too handsome for his own good?
I unfolded the letter, read it once, and had to read through it twice to fully take it in.
It was a bill. For nine dollars. From the elementary school cafeteria.
Apparently, my son had talked the lunch lady into opening a tab so he could buy himself an extra little something every day. You know--a pudding cup, a Nutty-Buddy, a two-pack of cookies. Basically, whatever his chubby, little heart desired.
I've never been so proud in my life.
But, regardless of my pride, I'm not the type to let my food-loving child get away with everything, so I called the cafeteria yesterday morning.
I was like, "Hi Cheryl, this Amy Lawson, James's mom."
"Oh," she chimed! "We love James, he's so darn cute!"
"Cheryl," I replied, "I didn't know that the preK students were allowed to charge things in the cafeteria without their parents' permission."
"Well they're not," she said.
"But I just got a bill for nine dollars from you guys. James has definitely been charging some snacks."
"Well he's really persistent," she said. "And cute, and convincing..." her voice trailing off. "And he loves cupcakes more than any other kid I've ever dealt with."
And I was all, "Oh Cheryl, you should see him with a milkshake--he's completely passionate."
And so on and so forth.
Last night, I made the executive decision that I'm going to continue to allow James to run a tab on his snacks at school. I think it's totally funny.