My son, the lunch lady

I'm sure you all know my son, Mark, the child who groans when I ask him to make his bed and almost cries when I ask him to help with the yard work. The child who thinks "chores" mean watching the TV without an extra pillow, or actually getting out of bed on time.

That's right, the kid who my dad nicknamed "Mañana" because seriously, that's when he likes to help around the house. Mañana--always mañana.

And yet, at school it is the complete opposite. When the teacher asked yesterday who'd like to volunteer in the cafeteria, Mark's hand shot up immediately. He told me when he got home it's a good deal--he gets a free lunch every day. But I know better--he's not trying to save me money. The lure of a free cafeteria cookie was really the draw, not so much the food, which just last week he told me is "disgusting." But I was surprised he'd give up his lunch recess playtime to actually work.

"That is a good deal," I agreed. "But you were in such a rush to get to the caf, you skipped the nurse's office on your way."

I recounted how the nurse chased him down to check his blood sugar and bolus for his lunch. I reminded him that it's his duty to stop at the nurse's office, and that he must eat his own lunch before serving up anyone else's.

He agreed to follow the plan, on penalty of being fired from his day job. Losing out that daily cookie is motivation enough for him!

Then curiosity got the best of me, and I asked what exactly he did in the caf.

"I serve stuff," he said.

"What kind of stuff?" I asked.

"You know, the food--today I gave kids their burritos."

I bit my lip, and my friend Edra, who was with us, bit hers too. I think we both had the same image, at the same time--Mark in an apron, a hair net, and plastic gloves. My son, the walking fashion statement, the boy who refuses to wear shorts that don't hit below the knees, or shirts that aren't "cool"--that child of mine is donning food-service gear all for a free cookie. Now that's a serious sweet tooth!

I'll just have to see how long that cookie tides him over. I'm sure he'll enjoy it this next week, but even cookies lose their appeal when you eat the same kind everyday. I'm sure the free cafeteria lunch will lose it's appeal in a week or so, and the tug of the playground will pull at Mark soon enough.

And when it does, it'll be time for his next big life lesson--about keeping your word, and honoring your commitments, even if it means giving up your lunchtime recess or football games with your friends.

And maybe I'll even throw a free bonus lesson in there--about raising your price when you sell out. Because from where I'm sitting, a free cafeteria cookie seems a pretty low price!

Lunch reservations

Mark was telling me a story about a fifth-grade girl at school. He said her name a couple times, but I finally had to admit I didn't know who he was talking about.

"The girl who just got diagnosed with diabetes," he said, exasperated with me.

"Sorry," I answered. "I didn't know her name."

"ANYWAY..." he started his story over again. It began with her smacking Mark in the head with her lunchbox, and him retaliating by taking her lunch.

Now, most moms would be upset by the smacking and stealing parts, but I'm the parent of a child with diabetes. I was more worried about the lunch part.

"You took her lunch?" I asked. "Did she already take her insulin?"

"Yes," he answered. "Besides, she took my lunch, too."

"Did you already get your insulin?" I asked. I was beginning to panic. Taking each other's lunches is a time-honored tradition on the playground, but for kids with diabetes -- who've already taken their insulin according to very specific lunch carb counts -- the results can be disastrous.

"She took your lunch --but you needed to eat!" I said.

"Don't worry," Mark chided. "She needed to eat her lunch, too. So we just gave them back."

And then I laughed. Partly from relief, and partly because it was funny in a sad kind of way. I could see them both stealing lunches and teasing each other, then suddenly realizing they had to stop playing around and eat. I was mad at Mark for stealing the girl's lunch, and proud of him for realizing it might be kind of dangerous to play around like that.

Sometimes diabetes complicates even the simplest interactions...

I'm an evil genius, part 2

Mark feeds our cats every night. Lately, he's been lazy, spilling canned food onto the counter and not cleaning it up (so gross!).

I've asked him to clean up but he just shrugs it off. So, tired of nagging, I came up with a solution.

A couple nights ago, I asked him to clean up. He did not. As soon as he went to bed, I wiped down the counter myself.

The next morning, I called him into the kitchen. I talked to him while making his sandwich on the very same counter.

After feeding the cats that night, I reminded him again to wipe down the counter.

"I did," he told me, though I knew he hadn't.

"Oh good," I replied, kissing him on the head. "Because that's where I make your lunch. I wouldn't want any cat food on your sandwich!"

He immediately stiffened up, remembering I'd made his lunch on that spot. (He didn't know I'd wiped it clean.)

"I thought you make my lunch on the cutting board," he said.

"Well, the counter's clean, right?" I asked. "Since it's next to the bread box, I just make it there."

Silently, he moved to the sink, and returned with a sponge, wiping up the area.

Haven't had to ask him to wipe down the counters since.