When our oldest was in second grade, he met his mother and I one morning and proudly told us that he had made his own lunch for school that day. We did all the proper oohing and ahhing which parents should, praising him for his effort. Still, when he turned his back my wife thought it best to have a look at what he had packed.
Peanut butter and jelly sandwich, okay.
A napkin, good.
Apple, very good.
A bottle of beer. Okay, that of course had to be switched out for a juice box. We then explained to our son, kindly because we didn't want to ruin his pride at being otherwise considerate, that he was too young for beer and that the school wouldn't allow it. He was okay with the explanation.
Can you imagine how quickly we would have been called to social services though, if she hadn't checked his lunch box?
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