Yesterday morning Kian was getting his coat and backpack on in preparation for his departure to school. He started Kindergarten this year and has done extremely well with the adjustment. I was in the living room getting the babies, Kelan and Ailey, ready for daycare. When I heard Kian sniffling and Chris ask him, “Why are you crying?”
He responded in a resounding whine, “I’m NEVER gonna be a packer!”
Rolling my eyes at his dramatic outcry of contention, I continued to fight with Kelan to get dressed, knowing exactly what he was referring to. He had come home from school the night before and said to me, “Ya know mom some kids are packers at school. I don’t have to be a buyer. I can be a packer.” I explained that I would be happy to pack his lunch the next day as I really didn’t have lunch stuff to pack for tomorrow. But I would go to the store after work and get some things to put in his lunchbox. Satisfied with this and the prospect of becoming a packer, he went back out to watch TV.
Chris, however, had not been privy to the conversation and had no idea as to what he was talking about. So he asked puzzled, “A packer? You mean like- a Green Bay Packer?”
Chuckling to myself, I was content in letting the conversation take place without my interjection and continued to get the kids ready.
Kian now equally stumped said “Huh?”
Chris, “What do you mean, you’re never gonna be a packer?” (As he said this, he looked around the corner at me questioningly.)
“Daaaaaaadddd! I mean I’m NEVER gonna be a packer at lunch!” He whined again, emphatically.
Laughing, I interjected at this point and explained his plight to Chris and reminded Kian that I would pack his lunch that night. Later, after work, I ran to the grocery store and grabbed much needed groceries along with some lunch items. Kian, who had been at his Grandmothers, walked through the door that evening and immediately said “Mom, don’t forget, I’m gonna be a packer tomorrow.”
I informed him that I had his lunch all set; a ham and mayo sandwich cut in fours, regular Lays potato chips, three Halloween Oreo Cookies and a Capri Sun.
His response, “That’s gwreat, mom. Wreal-we, gwreat! Prefect! Just what I wanted.”
His excitement carried throughout the night and into this morning. When he promptly removed the lunchbox from the refrigerator and began to lecture his younger bother about the merits of “being a packer” and how Kelan couldn’t be a packer because he didn’t go to “wreal school”- which resulted in an argument between the two. Not to be out done by his brother, Kelan loaded up a smaller version of Kian’s lunchbox with an old iPod changer and some other toys and announced he was a packer too.
So lunchboxes were placed into backpacks and everyone was sent on their merry way. But as I drove into work, I thought- My God, between daycare, diapers, pull-ups, lunches, lunch money on their cards and regular groceries, I’m going to be in the poor house for the next eighteen years!
I guess I better become a packer too.